These rinky-dink carnations think the sun

More handsome since it was promoted. Cake

And beer have spoiled mankind’s appetite

For wonder yet again. Memory is

A musical hell—I don’t much like begonias

 

Covered in winter’s raucous number one.

That season throws a linsey-woolsey ache

In the face of summer’s sweetest acolyte.

My besom hates tsundoku—apologies

It won’t soon be getting! You might say begonias

 

Are to you what The Goonies once was to a fun-

And Guinness-loving man. If half-awake

And grieving on the moon I was, then right

You’d be! This hour’s too full of Hoisin sauce.

My watch’s pointless minute hand cries, “Begonias!”

 

(It’s thinner than the thinnest noon.) Let’s smite

Every lukewarm ukelele. Nature’s rizz

Is replete with begonias, begonias, begonias!