Fields of corn along every road and rung. Ladders Of satisfying symmetry. When young I could identify corn with no natter. It looks like itself from sprout to ear Unlike most other plants or trees or beer. Corn's more like a friend in that regard, Who doesn't disguise her voice when she phones Or wear a wig when you meet, to make it hard To know it's her.
Corn is what it is, no bones About it.
Don't ride with someone who weaves Across three lanes to stop for you. The longer The wait, the better the ride. Hunger Is thwarted by accepting every offer Of food. Wash your face every chance you get. I'm sure there's more, but as always, it's tougher To learn if too much info pelts you.