Indiana Broccoli

Nobody knows where he staggered to,

The Pelican King.

We tried the Circumvent,

The Fast-Drill Button,

The Carwash.

My nostrils were not very happy,

My head full of snakes.

The Carwash was not filthy,

But the odious rotten thing was dead.

Something lay face down,

Maybe dead fields.

He must have been drunk after the tired Carwash,

The Pelican King buckled the water table

After too much Indiana broccoli

And the Q-tip bottle of beer

That slipped off without hesitance.

So I retrace

Curling the Fast-Drill Button,

The Circumvent.

Nobody knows where he staggered to.