By Twyla Lidén
Sliding in on a shrimp sandwich.
Bang on the beetroot.
As easy as a small pancake.
Close doesn’t shoot a hare.
Well, now you’ve shat in the blue cabinet. You’re out bicycling.
I’m holding my thumbs for you. Then there will be other buns. Clear as sausage juice.
You luck of cheese.
Tip-toe like a cat around hot porridge. Sour said the fox.
That was like the cat!
You’ve got your beard in the mailbox. Dammit bananas.
I suspect owls in the bog.
I’ve got a cock in my throat.
I’ve got a crow in my nose.
That was that that.
Do you shark?
You can jump up and sit on that alright. You have planted your last potato.