Dry Like Wine

Sometimes I think I must be dry,

For every time I pass the produce aisle,

The aridity-sensors set the sprinklers off

To wet the lettuce and the rhubarb,

And each and every time I try

To tell a joke, no one laughs,

But only cries are heard.

But tell me, if I were a wine,

Would you buy me?

Would you try me if I were

A taste more difficult to acquire,

Something even dryer, say,

Like Brut Champagne?

Would I tickle your delicate sensibilities then?

-jenn