The rabbit's fur's been smelling like maple syrup
more and more frequently.
I'm starting to believe that she's been going
to McDonald's for McGriddles at four in the morning
and she's been holding out on me.
I'd ask my roommate, but I know he wouldn't fess up;
no one likes a tattle-tale, not even a rabbit.
If she starts smelling like the leather interior
of a European luxury car and listening to
German techno, then I'll know who her accomplice is.
Which way did she go?
Which way did she go, George?
Currently reading:
"Tender Buttons" by Gertrude Stein.
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