akinator hates bliss carman

By Dalton Derkson

are you thinking of a man?

was this man born some time ago?

was this man a smoker?

was this

a man who could roll a bull durham

with one hand til some cancer

took both his,

so now he’s workin on a way

to lose his tongue, extracting

wads of chew from the tin

nd emptyin it out so clean

you’d figure the gal at the esso

sold him a dud?


are you thinking of a treadmill?


well not a treadmill exactly,

but another something like it?

one that’s not yet been said,

if there is such a thing —

how about an incline stepper?

how about a tony little gazelle?

how about a george foreman grill

that doesn’t extract the grease

nd instead just cooks it

from liquid to molten paste ad nauseum.

so the selling point is that you don’t have to wait

for whatever yer breathing in or stepping on

or sucking back to kill ya.

you just turn the dial to kervorkian

nd wait for the little green light

to come on nd problem solved.

no more ‘have you heard this one’s.

no more stepping on toes.

no more stealing ideas.

no more waiting

nd beckoning upon yr O CAPTAIN

to give forth what he bringeth for thee:

a lovely little something

bulging his front pocket

brought just for you

to see.


are you thinking of walt whitman?


are you thinking of shakespeare

caught in a tree like a cat?


are you thinking of the cartoon firemen

attempting to put me out?


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