Oscar Grey blows banana-shaped pipe smoke, luring
chimps with stomachs so noisy, neighbors call time out.
As the game resumes, Oscar’s hand slips from his wrist,
falling for days, till on the seventh, the hand grows a new
The new Oscar Grey twists balloon poodles whose furs
contain smaller poodles (∞), drooling out rivers, where
scheming men raise clumsy Jolly Rogers that occasionally
drop a bone or two like bricks from old Oscar’s spidery
Webs spun with sugarcane fibers lure stray Oscar Greys
into future entrées so exquisite, seated guests wait days.
On the seventh, Oscar folds, forfeiting his staked daughter
who flutters so rabidly, everything collapses. Henceforth,
no further mention of Oscar Grey is possible.