with help from shitguyfierisays.tumblr.com
Like a manhole cover in Flavortown. Like a speedbump in Flavortown. Like a hot-dog lasso on the ranch in Flavortown. Like a giant play-doh machine in Flavortown. Like a blackjack dealer at the Flavortown casino. Like a hot tub in Flavortown. I want to be the mayor of Flavortown. A conductor on the train going to Flavortown. The driver on the bus going to Flavortown. A big hamburger might be the steering wheel on the bus that’s going to Flavortown. That’s in the tank that fuels the bus that’s going to Flavortown. Hitting the road in search of Flavortown has been quite a trip. Four or five bites into this and I’m pulling in to the depot of Flavortown. You can find that dictionary in the Flavortown library. What would be the airline of Flavortown? Sausage Airlines? The first discovered culinary cave of Flavortown A lightning bolt of an idea in Flavortown. Mining for food in Flavortown river. I feel like I’m gonna have surgery here at Flavortown memorial. I'm a citizen of Flavortown, a city council member of Flavortown. Of course, there's no Flavortown — unless you believe in it.
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Danny CaineDanny Caine is the author of the poetry collections Continental Breakfast (Mason Jar Press 2019) and El Dorado Freddy’s (collaboration with Tara Wray, Belt Publishing 2020) and the chapbook Uncle Harold’s Maxwell House Haggadah (Etchings Press 2017). His poetry has appeared in Barrelhouse, New Ohio Review, Hobart, DIAGRAM, and other places. He hails from Cleveland, Ohio and lives in Lawrence, Kansas, were he owns the Raven Book Store. More at dannycaine.com. |