Froggacuda's Weblog

Tonight the Frogg lies brooding
Pulling his lilypad up to his chin
Trying to suppress his inverted grin
From wrinkling his forehead into furrows
Deep enough to plant the weeds
That spring from pressure seeds.
That water which is like time
Still flows through the swamp
He’s caught cat-napping without his bilge pump
Up to his ass in alligators,
I will see you later.