An ode to a Strawberry Days corn dog
I waited in line, conscious of the caress of mild greasy air. I heard the music of the merry-go-round. The music passed in an instant, as the first bars of a sudden music always does, over the fantastic fabrics of the mind. Dissolved painlessly and noislessly as spilled lemonade dissolves the cotton-candy batons of children.
Three dollars to fry my soul with battered pig remains. The corn ebbed in my mouth forcing the ebbing words through my brain:
That great fried-star of morning-tide
O corn of corns and dog of dogs
The shining sword of carnies hide
Scraped from God’s farm’s farthest hogs
Rendered fried with breath of life
Strikes, fights, kills, my butt with strife
July 31st, 2006 at 1:02 am
you wanted to say @$$, huh?
August 1st, 2006 at 11:08 am
It would have been more poetic, but it is funnier when people make the conenction on their own. Like the skipping rope song that says:
“Hello operator give me number six. If you disconect me Ill kick you in the diskette.”
September 11th, 2006 at 9:47 am
There has never been a better description of a corn dog:
“The shining sword of carnies hide”
You should recieve an award for this.