April Two for NPM a prose poem

April Two for NPM

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"HOW, HOWHOWIndianHowa paroday of whoWho are you ?eye am How eye am the Indian HowHow are you ?yeseye am Howyou already said this once How are you Doing.eye am fineeye thought you just told me you are Howjust kiddingJustKidding is my nieceeye am HowWOWyou must be serious nowNOT Now Howoh ok talk laterTalkLater is my Uncle.You have a lot of people in your WigWarm.No not really in my Wig warm is only How.TeePee.Stop laughing now.And How.HowBrownCowOH BrownCow is daughter of HOW."

a prose poem

a rose stinks it smells like the thorn bush surrounding it the petals make perfume they call it attar and they sell it expansively in the stores they have a purple bottle eye purchased one for ewe in secret and she has it my love inside her heart so true this thorn is now her cause she loves me eye am special and one of a kind of a fellow that only she could love me like a lover satisfied the purple prose releases me like wine is called purple passion the grape of time tis of the essence smells like love is the glue is hard to shiff it gets me high on the hog the love is closer to the truth is better then the llie it fools no one is worried now for referances will be added the addition to the ell is longer then the house itself will never fall the freeway will expand contract and kill them all the drivers all the passengers take off the runaway beast is amuck us helter skelter the beatles bark the old cliches may seem atrocious is the amswers to the questors as they drink more sodden wine is the color of the grape on the vine is green is this prose poem in the money for the running water washes clean lucky ewe the end of story