Commiseration Among Thistles

A technocrat among thistles,

A boy with no lap,

And an hourglass

Walked into a bar.

The technocrat sayeth

To the young sprite on his shoulder,

“Who believes in grains of sand anymore?”

“I do”, said Thistle #12

To her sister

All down in her bristles,

  Wobbling off the

Unneat (not yet messy) breeze next

To her. “Why else

Do we sport all these prickles?”

  “It’s to

Keep us

Clean from the affection of herbivores.”

The boy, overhearing this, sneezed

Into his bottomless glass of milk

On the counter.

"I know what you mean", he said.

"This blank here, above my

Legs, below my belly,"

(both leaned over

Their stools to take a look)

"The cow I yanked

   For this milk

Ate it while I wasn’t looking.

Can you believe that?”

“No, I can’t”, Thistle Annie said.

“Me neither,” agreed

Thistle Grace, “But

I do think it makes you some kind

Of honorary thistle.”

The technocrat laughed widely at that.

"On me! A round of horrible hours
For everyone!"