Issue 221, Summer 2017
The crocodile is eating the new barman!
There’s a leg sticking out of its mouth.
Waiter, I’d like another one while I take in this gorgeous sunset.
Flavors of love and salt froth up on the pure white tablecloth of sand.
It must be fourteen feet long.
The hotel guests watch the leg ungrowing in chomps.
We’re bringing you another drink on the house.
Then comes the moment when they say,
Actually, I really am going to die—
And don’t believe it—
Do but don’t—don’t but know.
Some of their best friends won’t,
Then one or two do.
They get their travel agent to fly them somewhere warm.