Over consumption
of Central American
cuisine bloats my gut.
Like a puffer fish,
a balloon ready to pop,
I thusly explode.
As lava erupts,
rivulets run hot and foul,
filling the caverns.
Below city streets,
the newborn life, if called that,
becomes self-aware.
Haiku #56231, by Darth Figpucker of Yield Calle
March 17, 2017 7:45 am ET