Sonnet VIII
The State came knocking, pounding on the door,
And when they busted through found quite a mess:
A dozen bagels strewn across the floor,
In varied, lurid stages of undress.
But far worse was an onion sliced in two, With what they deemed was no remorse at all; Its skin was slathered with a cream cheese glue, That kept each half stuck to the kitchen wall.
The agents clenched their fists and cried Why, Lord? Their souls were shattered, battered with self doubt; One tried to hang himself with toaster cord, Until the wiser, other belted out:
Without us there could never justice be — These bagels need protective custody!
But far worse was an onion sliced in two, With what they deemed was no remorse at all; Its skin was slathered with a cream cheese glue, That kept each half stuck to the kitchen wall.
The agents clenched their fists and cried Why, Lord? Their souls were shattered, battered with self doubt; One tried to hang himself with toaster cord, Until the wiser, other belted out:
Without us there could never justice be — These bagels need protective custody!
