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The Bagel Bird, by all accounts,
is said to lunch on large amounts
of sticks and twigs and sand and stones
and plastic parts from broken phones.
He'll nibble bits of copper wires
and rubber from discarded tires.
He'll chomp on tops of cuckoo clocks
and swallow shorts and stinky socks.
He'll chew your shoes and eat your hat.
He'll bite your books and baseball bat.
He'll stuff his lips with poker chips
and snack on sails from sailing ships
and gobble poles and bowling balls
and pick at bricks from fallen walls
and graze on grass and feed on weeds
and dine on twine and strings of beads.
But bagels... whether white or wheat,
or salted, savory, or sweet,
or topped with lox or luncheon meat,
are something he will never eat.
At least that's what I've always heard
about the crazy Bagel Bird.
But I don't mind because, you see,
that leaves more bagels just for me.
Copyright © 2012 Kenn Nesbitt
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