In My Township
Come to Grass township where very few smoke the grass, oh, they might smoke corn silk, jimson weed, crystal meth or chew tobacco with their grasshoper mouths.
the old plat book with names written in spidery ink, McCoy, Cruz, Ash, Gwaltney this grass alley by my cousin's is called Circadian lane.
the last outhouse is behind the church, but I drop my drawers / shit a brick/ anywhere in the woods“You're nothing but a little pill,” said my grandpa Yearby.
Bushel of wheat
bushel of rye
all for Midway hollar I.Once I knew a girl whose initials were KKK. And her two sisters were named after spices. Grasshoppers spit out tobacco, I hate their mouths.
What do you think this is, your birthday, Coatless?
Cross off your list:
turkey ticks
dipper
kettle
ball jars
tub
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