Why God Made Refrigerators
Ordinarily, when I’m visiting someone who has magnetic poetry on their refrigerator, I try to write something clever — something that’s a least a complete sentence — because I hate seeing all those cool magnetic words being used for nonsensical purposes like “enlightened puppy drool” or “dance with a delerious purple woman” or “I was originally chiseling acrylic produce.” Gah.
So, after I’d warmed up by spelling out, “their only egg is frantically incubating,” I decided to best myself by composing an epic-length poem, the likes of which has never before graced a refrigerator anywhere in the known universe.
Behold. My social commentary.
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