Her name is Yankee, but she is a furry Phillies fan,
A century into history of her own clone;
It is her vision that informs the work we do everyday.
But there is also a second woman whose philosophy
Has made everything the four-legged foundation does possible.
Air horns are widely employed as vehicle horns,
Installed on large omnibuses, semi-trailer trucks,
Fire trucks, trains, and some ambivalent ambulances,
And on ships as a signaling device to let the world know
That she is cumming and the other she is humming.
Find another word for schizophrenia for she and her other she
Say things like 'the tv is a lake and it is screaming at me',
Even as Abigail Ann distracts with collar bones,
Losing herself in an A-frame house in front
Of a stand-up fan all beautiful and beguiled by the witnessing.
Make up your mind, she says, in the mirror,
A wannabe Utonagan urinating puddles precisely
As shattered psyches dance in battle before smiles
Interrupt and there is nothing neither can do about it all;
Abby is stuck in the middle, décolletage and all.
Can’t eat chocolate cake, fangs in flesh,
There is only one dog in this picture
Of a pick-up truck from the past,
And it wants to be big by the beginning,
Beyond Fort Lauderdale on a zooming Tuesday.
Captain to the kennel or cough on the couch,
But don’t split the bone down the middle,
Because both decisions are one in the same,
Being made by a French Bulldog with split personalities,
Plotting while Abby types tonight.