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My Impression of Bugs Bunny
A poem about a true story
Once, when I was a kid, I asked my babysitter, Maurika (she later went to Harvard), if she wanted to see my impression of Bugs Bunny She said yes. I emerged from the bathroom nude head-to-toe white tissue wad wedged between butt cheeks, my little rabbit’s tail I hopped and flopped up and down stairs floor-to-floor. Maurika laughed (though, it seems low brow for a future Ivy Grad) If I would critique my bunny burlesque— aside from the evident issues of consent— I’d say it’s light on Bugs, heavy on Bunny But, for a kid, honestly pretty funny
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