cross-posted from: https://lemmy.zip/post/70919175
Two households, both alike in dignity, separated by a wooden fence instead of a feud. Romeo leaned over, Juliet leaned over, and the fence did not stand a chance. The epilogue is half ink, half paper, the only star-crossed love story with a happy ending.
He looks like he’s wearing a white onesie
The onesie is couture, clearly tailored for fence-side rendezvous.
Caught between the twisted stars The plotted lines the faulty map That brought Columbus to New York Betwixt between the East and West He calls on her wearing a leather vest The earth squeals and shudders to a halt . . .
The epilogue deserves its own poem, clearly.
That’s a blackhead if i ever saw one.
And the whitehead got a tan from all that fence-leaning.
