Hurricane brings the beat, but we ain't dancing.

A storm down south pushes funky

air through every crack and wrinkle.

We cannot get naked enough

To vent the heat or cool our skin.

The clouds are clothing us. We wear

rain for a hat. The wooly-wet

a river-muddied Saint Bernard

who wants to be your best friend.

A Philosophical Discussion Between a 'Possum and a Raccoon.

There's a chicken in the road.
What's a chicken doing in the road?
Crossing it.
Crossing what?
The road.
You're telling me there's a chicken crossing the road?
Yep, that's what I'm telling you.
I wonder why.