The beans I glared at
were soft hearted
and suggested their apologies.
Quickly removing themselves from the action,
the beans reclined on my couch,
and watched the Food Channel.
I took the beans into my kitchen
and grilled them.
The answers I recieved after my intense interrogation
were of a reasonable nature.
The beans admitted that they had indeed been chased
by depressed students carrying leafs of paper.
We walked out to the street
and there stood,
silently observing the occasion.
The beans propsed to me an idea
of a ridiculous nature
and in so doing I discovered
their organization and nomenclature.
Soon I found myself submerged in their plot,
which was sinister in a bean there done that
kind of way.
The beans were wearing pointed hats
and eating cake and dancing.
They also hit a pinata
shaped like a sloppily built staircase.
However, as the beans carried out their celebration
I sat in a nearby chair and noticed that none of them had said a word,
but that I could feel their emotions as clearly as if
they had shared their feelings while enjoying some nachos.
Fire.
Free.
Fred.
Frodo.
Sodo.
Rodeo.
Rode.
Ride.
Nachos.
Beans.
Ritchie Valens.
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