(The Pfrotsh-Poem)
The Poem
of the flea,
who sits on
the back
of the big,
grey, shecked,
evil dog,
just at the
moment, when
he scratches himself
with all his power
at a tree,
because he wans
that the big
itchy feeling stops,
because the flea
gets on his nerves:
Pffratsh!
March 1999
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