Zimmerman Reads Dodgson

Sentimental apple with the fruit bowl cut
startled my inertia, but
I never stopped to question if
the cantaloupe was hollow or the banana stiff.

Have you ever tasted a fruit never grown?
Asked the rabbit of the tree,
a maple that had never sown.
Jet-pack purple squirrel replied, “Look at me!”

Her moonlight beamed on the milkman’s head
as he trusted where his directions led.
So he was late with their breakfast by an hour
which ended up more than a little sour.

The walrus sat down with Eskimo Quinn
and Tweedledee and his ugly twin,
the one who stole Veronica’s bolo.
Listen to my harmonica solo.

We waited at the crossroads
for the stranger who never shows
listening to insects, birds and toads,
singing songs only they know how they goes.


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