In space, he found a mission, that is,

he found a mission in space

Founded a mission to fit Kirk tight into a tuna can

where he must have found it hard to have found air

drawing what air he could by sucking hard

and hoping nobody got a picture of that mess

Meanwhile, man is murdering the beaches

Squeezing atmosphere ever tighter

Drawing the last blasts of dino poop, sloppy and speedy

to make ever more fuel for Cowboy Jeff Bejezzus to

pop his cork (and champagne) and do the victory dance that

all flabbyass spoiled nimrods perform

when they think they’ve done it just right

(Look, Ma, no hands)


© 2021 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil

For The Sunday Whirl, I think I used just about all the words provided. (Look, Ma, no hands)