don’t tell dada ’bout the doggie door

What a deranging display of pointless perfidiousness,

superfluous insidiousness,

what plainly prattling perfidious pomps

these two children are,

all persnickety and rickety

making a racket with their wickets in the croquet thicket,

all that per-snackity clackity click-tack tackle crack—

—

do me a trick,

be quiet now quick,

good dog,

have a popsicle lick;

Hansel, go tattle to Pop the sad sickening tale

of how you broke the doggie door with that thick brick and a picket stick

you perfidious pomp, don’t blame the peonies doing Pilates

or pretty pee-wee Tweety

or the doc down at the docks deducing deluded deductions

you know who broke Milo’s doggie door–

no Gretel, I won’t tell dada ’bout the doggie door

not now, not ever,

I won’t tell him ’bout the hammer in the poor scored floor

no, I think it’s better

if we run away from here forever.