We Say Pop
The snowman was my first Earthling. The sky fell on his rocky hillock. We exchanged nods. I offered aluminum foil. He said he lacked an omnipresent character. I checked my bag. I found a peach and took a bite and placed the fruit in place of his coal arch. He sang of love, and the grossness of white. His eyes were deadpan. Crows sprouted from his arms and hands. In my bag I found a battery. I took a bite and placed the cell in place of the tomato in his chest. He sang of love, and the grossness of white until he melted into pools of Sprite. I held out my arms. The crows whispered. I held out my arms.