I really think Chris Harris might be this generation’s Shel Silverstein. Between his text (like the titular poem) and Lane Smith, they nailed it. Not every time, but pretty darn close. I spent a wonderful evening reading every poem in the book to my husband while giggling hysterically. He laughed a few times himself, but I’m sure for the most part he thought I was losing it. NO! These poems really ARE that funny! Like the one below. I laughed so hard at this one because it was a poem that always bothered me for this very reason. Ha!