Apple Pie

Imaginary apple pie is very argumentative and hence irrational with measured portions of sugar and oil and flour and flowers and garlands and sheets of paper in reams beaming happiness riding motorbikes of the day after tomorrow on silver-screen madness lofty claims tall glasses unable to see very far farther into the future father of the nation of tomorrow’s visions and missions in missionary and to chew the cud like a moocow of the little Joys of James and his madness sending ships and criminals on long voyages bn voyage sirens police patrol ambulance and cop-cars mop-tops rock-stars hey dude don’t shake it bad you mad boy bra-berries grow on trees in fields forever and ever clover man with spades, hi, how, how you do a bow is all you need to breed and make bread and jam and lamb for a better tomorrow to learn from our me-stakes done well or medium rare for the classy red-wine glassy not for the glass-eyed Denise with a heart of glass and teeth of floss and the inheritance of a clause Mr. Santa in an Indian novel is a secret affair just before Christmas inside chimneys that fall down into the houses of little children and even for the sake of an argument there aren’t children who aren’t otherwise and the case, along with the chapter and your zipper-fly closes there quite unlike your mouth busy spouting instructions chewing the gum or the cud you moocow that comes walking down the street jingling jangling bells of the morning following you playing either a plain tambourine or a green one with lemon pips or people who carry lemon pips calling themselves pippers playing green jamborees