A poem? Continue...
Hadn’t intended.
Deep fried deep fry. A city just has a gondola to get around by? Ohio, they say — but it feels gay, No streets, just husks and a corndog regime. No buses, no bikes, no late-night drive-thru, Just funnel cakes and hushpuppies blowing on through. The mayor wears crocs, the sky smells like pie — In gondola-town, where logic goes awry
Did you write that?
It started as a comment and then I was pushed to come up with something.
I don’t remember my rules of poetry from middle school. So maybe it follows one maybe not.
Most of my shit is more like a song lyric than a poem if you ask me.
Gondola Town. Nice!