Ahh. We dodged another bullet, so the news an – chor (and the weather lady) say.
A mere quarter million miles up in our galaxy,
‘Twixt Gaea and her moon,
An asteroid and its twin,
Seventy square miles was it,
Barely grazed our aura, ’tis told.
Are we so very old
We then need Cosmologists (and, cosmetolo – gists?)
To show the way?
Hey. The Nats just passed sixty
In wins. And the new kid just his fifth? At-bat,
Hit
a two-run homer, though
We still lost that game
And there was not a cloud in the whole dog – gone
Firmament of blue.
You could hear gum crack, or a single beefy red
guy yell
“RAMOS!”
With only 16,000
And two Souls present in the house,
Who could tell. (Is that Ramos like a Ramos fizz
Like they mix up down on O’Keefe Street,
In New Orleans, oh so very neat?)
Now comes football
Don’t even get me started
On an entirely new reason to make for temporary
Widowhood due to TV. FROM THE COSMIC SPORTS PAGE:
