Supposably

Well, supposably they’re planning to — I want to pry the b out of his jaw With a crowbar Once I wrench it loose The a should topple out without too much trouble And then we can begin the filling Metal on metal and the morning’s cold As it should be Short hair sensible shoes and a bright pink bag She cometh on the wafts of waffle With a cherub’s face peering out between The prison of her legs She watches the dusky mice That climb the dusky stones and forage For Cheetohs beside the tracks The sun ignites her fringe And my jeans are suddenly growing tight — build a new line to the West