Are you feeling zip-zip?
Are you ready for partying?
I need your field trip slip
signed by a parent or guardian.

But I understand if they don’t want to sign it
because most people find Vulture Shark’s
Sculpture Park a little bit dangerous… Culture, hark!

There’s Bunny Loafabread on a Sofabed.
Igloo Turtle leaps a big blue hurdle overhead.
Lil Orphan Dolphin gets endorphins from golfing.
She looks lucky and reckless
thanks to her Tumbleweed/ Bumblebead Necklace.

There’s Hamstergram to Amsterdam with a robo-actional hobo satchel perched on an ampersand.

Watch a newborn gorilla dip a blue corn tortilla chip.

Don Quixote
with a Calder ‘stache
rides Donkey Odie.
A sign says,“Don’t Touch.”
Balderdash!

As if the oil in my hands is more destructive
than natural erosion from acid rain lightning storms.

A bucolic setting. A whole house
made of bedding. It’s getting cold
out. Oh wow, a wedding.

The groom wore a costume,
a very goth towel, a terrycloth cowl.

He said, “I, Hairy Moth Owl, take you to bite awfully
headed to ravish and mould in quickness and stealth till death or we part. And you?”

The bride, a turtledove, replied, “You may kiss the fertile
love inside my girdle/glove divide.”

Vulture Shark presided as host and proposed a toast: “Make your woman a momma, damn it. Spread more seeds on the planet than a pomegranate.”

He’d copped her a Lepidoptera Helicopter, a
Dubuffet table with butter frogs and mice, a chopped liver goose, and Lincoln Logs of ice.

I said, “Beg pardon. We brought the happy a couple a Caterpillar Egg Carton.” We had our fill of turkey sandwiches made from traced hands on butcher
paper tablecloths with glasses of crayons.

Marriage isn’t an individgin decision. I ran over a bridge
and explored the park store run by Rebecca
Pidgeon. She sells tight terrific site specific
environments; Vulture Shark Sculpture
Park as depicted by Barman’s Garments....