Roman

Clay Crayon

Drawn on clamors,
anchors are a steamy
bicep, tricycle races
with one wheel tracked
at a time. Regal
egalitarians, feeling
merit pride from
five marshmallows
old. Stymie stimulations,
dim jams, peanut 
stuttered into legume
land, a plot device
driven, filed, and 
sandy enough to 
make it in the wild.