(2) (once again, in Maureen Thorson's words):
No matter how many times I'm mowing,
the dandelions just keep on growing.
No matter how many times I weed,
dandelions find a way to re-seed.
If the sun one morning rose in the west,
dandelions would greet it, each sun-faced pest.
If the stars decided to shuffle the night,
dandelions would still stand upright.
If an elephant were eaten by a mouse,
dandelions would still surround my house.
If the clocks one day all struck thirteen,
dandelions would still keep their green.
If all the circles were suddenly square,
dandelions wouldn't seem to care.
If pigs all decided that they could fly,
dandelions would look up and wave "hi".
With all my raking, pulling, hoeing,
dandelions - damn them! - keep on growing.
If the apocalypse came and destruction swirled,
roaches and dandelions would rule the world.