The Way I Like It

I like my women the same way I like my cars, powerful and easy on the eye. I like my cars the same way I like my coffee, expensive and well-made. I like my eggs the same way I like my fighter jets, scrambled. I like my rama lammas the same way I like my ding dongs, in songs that I can't remember the lyrics to. I like my nieces the same way I like my nephews, equally. I like my relief the same way I like my sans-serif fonts, comic. I like my alligators the same way I like my crocodiles, which is lucky.

I like my appletinis the same way I like my crantinis, ordered by a friend so that no one knows they're for me. I like my pencils the same way I like my rubber bands, turned into miniature catapults. I like my people the same way I like my analog clocks, with hands, a face, and on Mountain Time. I like my heads of lettuce the same way I like my firecrackers... kaboom! We're talking lettuce everywhere.

I like my cloth diapers the same way I like my disposable diapers, on babies, monkeys, and old people. I like my geeks the same way I like my nerds, sitting over there with the dorks. I like my ups the same way I like my downs, diagonal. I like my indoors the same way I like my outdoors, separated from one another by a continuous partition such as a house or a dome. I like my thingamajigs the same way I like my whatsits, with a certain je ne sais quoi. I like my cabbage rods the same way I like my taco cats, thought up by me while on cold medicine. I like my dislikes the same way I like my likes, with a pattern that is in keeping with my fundamental perspective as a human being. I like my fundamental perspective as a human being the same way I like my cars, zipping all over the place and going vroom.