Always the highbrow, artsy-schmartsy stuff with you.
Haiku Potatoes.
Alright.
Let’s see what I can remember from my Intro To Poetry Class.
I remember that blonde girl. She sat two rows over. Now there was someone to write poetry to. Alas, and she was quite a lass, she wanted someone more mature than me. And by mature, she meant “with more money”.
Haiku.
5-7-5 with a Cutting Word.
OK.
Five French fries frying
Seven baked potatoes baking
Five tater tots totting
Scissors
Where’s my prize?
Heh heh... pommes fritesrepublic.