If a pizza went on vacation
Where would it likely go?
Probably not to some hot spot
Like an overactive oven or a barbeque cooking show
Nor the north or southern pole
Where there’s any chance of becoming stiff
Somewhere in between I’d suppose
Let’s imagine a coastal cliff house retreat
And maybe a beach filled afternoon
You know, go skimming over surf and sand
Like flimsy sorts of wannabe, frisbee’s can
Then land within the waves as an interesting kind of floater
Rescued by a lifeguard because of a quick-thinking boater
So goes the well-rounded, sinking, non-swimmer guy
Who suddenly returns to life - resuscitated by CPR
And lives on to tell his worried wife
If all this sounds implausible
You are astute beyond your years
For as far as sandy, soggy, pizzas go
Their bound to only bring us
Gritty, bitty, bites . . . plus, saltwater, sparkling tears