Image Source: Vecteezy
I had a cousin named Constanza.
She hated me and I her.
I like the word “bonanza”.
Still don’t quite know what it means.
I prefer not to think of stanzas.
Twos, Threes, Fours, nothing but numbers.
Do you know how many words end with “anza”?
Not enough, I think.
I’ll have myself a two-line extravaganza.
Never mind what I think.
I’d like to play the zanza.
An African instrument, if you didn’t know.
I looked up this zanza.
Apparently it’s also slang for LSD.
I’ll tell that to my pen pal in Arkansas.
Ha, did I trick you that time?
Don’t worry, always have esperanza.
That’s Spanish for “hope”.
Keep up the confianza.
I cheated again, that’s “confidence”.
I just hate to think of stanzas.
I’d rather invite Constanza for a zanza extravaganza.
So there, that’s my stance-a.
I think I hate rhymes even more.
Originally Published in Bandersnatch Vol. 48 Issue 06 on November 21th, 2018