$3,000 poem

Fork it over!
Fuck-up shot
down shells
in way
over our
heads.
Lest you
ought
to implicate
some other
intricate
vessel of
porcelain.
What!? Pay
the debts
of your
attention!
Dig down
for an
umlaut.
Spoon
moon
nuggets
into my
mouth,
oh you
little
stinker,
you got
me
thinking
green.