What Is In Your Mellon? Poem by James McLain

Smooth up the hill dump truck reversed
trick of the grey beside some road full
of holes in hopes the cup o noodles it's
end for a brighter tomorrow we start.
Dipping one spoon to many tasting a
thought of common since that threads
needles all saw that fled from greed
was the melon imputed to us all?
Annoying the exciters whom bloated in
salt melons full of rare air still don't float.
What is it that you have dripping from your chin?