This is a poem from the writing prompt: write about unicorns ... When you give a unicorn a trumpet
Don't expect it to be polite. For their horns were made for poking And they're tasteless in the night. You may tell him: Man, It's only made for music. He'll say: I don't have hands so Don't you tell me how to use it. In a restaurant, in candlelight, He'll make you drop your knife. In your bedroom masked in shadow He will traumatize your wife. A unicorn at any other time Is a magical sight. But when you see one with a trumpet It's best to wonder on and say goodnight.
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AuthorChicago-born citizen of the globe, rich in the things that really matter. Let's get weird. Categories
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January 2019
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