Believe It or Not

What are you trying to prove?
That mustard stings in a grove?
A sandwich can be caught
by a butterfly cooked in a wok?
Let me explain how this can exist.
I was eating a dog and we accidentally kissed
with two hot thumbs locked in a vow.
Were we sincere? And how!
And if that weren’t a bow wow
a stick of butter flew
into the room and I knew
our wok which was already there,
whom I won’t and can’t compare,
to a summer’s day, was my girl here for the wear.
But she couldn’t cook, among other things.
The bric-a-brac, doodads and two wedding rings
that didn’t fly so well because we once broke up.
Two hot doggies who were too young to pup.
Yet scrupulously tickled watching the images fly by
without rhyme, reason or proper feet.
Add that to a wok that can’t greet
gives one the impression
our universe is just too human,  
so not too neat.