Tearing Venn Poem by Evan Histed

Along the lemonade alleyway
Moving is bitter sweet
The music they play
Is like burning peat
And the houses are rocks
The owners are stoned
When they finally collapse

Down the lemonade alleyway

Sugar that’s sludge
Fills the pot holes
Made by gypsies and men
Hitting the same spot
And fireworks explode
Man made stars burning hot
The lines grow longer
As people wait for the commode
And our stench grows stronger

Vinegar and apple tart are home
They note how things change
And deal in their different ways