by Lydia Daffenberg
Cooked out on the Tiki Grill.
Five-dollar-bill stories for a buck--
Just your luck.
Line up to get your
Bratville and Cornland,
Little sandwiches on a doily platter even;
Everyone scatter--the Tiki Gods are calling . . .
Set down your bamboo glasses and
Leave your paper-umbrella-frame-of-mind behind.
Labels: Tiki poetry grill