The Alaska Ass Quacks

I was going to write a story about buying dime bags in downtown Detroit in the late 90s from a giant woman named Candy who looked just like Mo’Nique in Precious. I was going to attempt to run a bead of racial tension through the story, and allow my discoveries to hopefully illuminate the darker reaches of the reader’s, for lack of a proper agnostic equivalent, soul, letting a slash of light across our common experiences, forcing us to recognize our one-ness.

But instead I’ve decided that this poem about Sarah Palin containing liberal use of fart puns is a more appropriate addition to this sunny Friday:

Hey Sarah Palin
I can smell you through the TV
You should consider
seeing a doctor
I bet he’ll give you a pooscription
for the fartmacy
because you’re blowing up
like a stinky Snoopy
on Thanksgiving Day
Some people find you attractive
I just want to find you a gastrointestinal specialist
with references
It is cute though
that you try so hard
But don’t strain
because
you know…
The farts