Our Tanged intestines sparkle. We survived,
guts Gonzo Graped and Purplesaurus Rexed.
No one had heard of Yellow Number 5.
Our mothers always tried to do their best.
But, Man-O-Mangoberry! I dyed my hair
with Kool-Aid once. It took a year to fade —
Rock-a-dile Red, the stubbornest flare,
a sunset more perfect than any any god made.
So now they gleam, our innards perma-rainbowed:
the Great Blue-dini spleen, heart Sharkleberry.
Our kidneys blush a darling Pink Swimmingo,
nothing Kansas-bland, no lime, no cherry;
they are my buried treasure, hidden wealth.
A bright inside for an outside beige and pasty.
We were not only feeding, but preserving ourselves —
my wrinkles like Fruit Wrinkles, ageless and tasty.