that looked as innocent as sin,
and my friend tried to take a picture of me
as I was standing next to him.
But I could smell his ragged costume
almost like a urine sea
as I held my firm expression
reading, "get the fudge away from me."
He was Elmo,
he was Shrek,
he was a five foot Iron Man,
and he never let you take a picture with him
unless you put a dollar in his hand.
But mannnnnn,
he was the essence ipso facto,
of the city sprawled out nude,
he was the trip
with a hop and a skip,
on an island of attitude.
He encompassed my journey completly
that the four hour drive had bequeethed,
and as I gazed through this Elmo's mouth hole
he had to be missing at least eight of his teeth.
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