Waste of My Time
by james bezerra
It is difficult to write a poem
about the California aqueduct
without using, “fucked”.
See, because “fucked”
rhymes with “aqueduct”.
But now it becomes a poem
about fucking an aqueduct.
And you’ll read it and say, “Well that sucked!
It was just a stupid poem that rhymes “fucked”
with “aqueduct”
and while that’s a fairly complex rhyme,
that poem was just a waste of my time.”
.
.
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