Mama Moth bought her clean ribbons at the Incognito Store
for all she knew, she
could have been Goebbles shoe-shine boy
she had flat plaid panoramas
for legs and couldn't try harder to look thin
her
Mouse Patrol vest clasped at the neck, clamping like the
tight heart she was
she stood around at
Ground Control hoping for an astronaut boyfriend
but
third stage paranoia got the best of her
She ate at the Feurgesons on
thursday eve, but couldn't find normal anywhere
The night she lay dead, her spandex stretched tighter than any
Start Trek uniform
merchants wept at her feet, like they'd lost their own
Dame Edna
what a massive production, death and all, only for the attention and
eulogies
but If she really wanted to fit in, she’d get a smaller dog.