As I kneel humbly by its side,
my lawnchair brushes underneath my chin
and whispers, "Make me a sandwich" against my skin.
For I doth quickly breeze into the forum
In search of a thread of such worth
That had not to do with erstwhile sadness
Of the Lonely wallowing in relational dearth
So on course, 'twas more the same
Discussion of one's traditional wish
As all should'st know no tradition is here
The web is no place for Amish
Slip'in back t'wards the exit
When I see Zero's timely thread
I click'd and I laugh'd and I guffaw'd
Alas! Th' spirit of life's enjoyment is not dead!
So my tradition is when I grew up
With hot aluminum arms that burn
And 70's color that doth jar the eye
Yearn for tradition? When will we learn?