Culture

A tomato squashes my face

To the market I go

With a map in hand

I want a tomato

But they only have grapes
I buy the grapes

For that is what I am sold

I’m told tomorrow there will be tomatoes

But what if I want an avocado instead

I pull out the map

I seek but do not find

A shining crocodile star on the hill

Yet sadly, compasses are in short supply
Supply and demand

Determine my choices

But my demand

Is hijacked by the roaches 
I stand waiting at the door

Candy corn in hand

I eat the good stuff

And sing myself to sleep
It’s been a long day

To dream, to purr

Tomorrow the devil comes

With a token deal in hand
I fold my wrinkled map

Under the pillow it goes

Nighty-night it screams

A tomato squashes my face

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