underwear, and purple

shorts looking for

a hotdog stand

to smear mustard

on their tummies

and nether regions

to protect their

bits from chafing

and inevitable sunburn

in the moonlight

where elves dance

hanging onto toadstools

and cracking onto

rock strewn shores

and aggitating horses

by laughing at

the size of

their tiny hooves

which leave imprints

on the implants

of mice n' men

and little women

and intraverted Aliens

crossing the border

with copious amounts