Reason shivers my spinal orangutan.
This is not a riddle.
You must learn me to love me.
Discard whatever you know each morning.
I am your happy hour drink.
I am a dream you forget each morning by eight.
In the twelve tastes a quarter apple
remains tangible but out of reach.
In the twelve quarters an owl
has no meaning devolved to humanity but owl.
My twelve sided face speaks with one tongue.
A ticket for little boats apt to capsize midstream.
copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney