A Thanksgiving poem about Banksy who I am super most thankful for even though totally shallow to be thankful for your puppy but very social norm for a dog lady.

Tis the night before Thanksgiving and all through the house
I already ate the pumpkin pie and
can't decide how to teach Banksy contacts.
Not a creature is stirring not even Banksy
because we got done at work early
and there was a long walk and many super fun stays.
Stays are fun! We have a million and ten ways to stay!
There are no stockings hung because damn we have way more
shopping days til Christmas
and also sometimes Banksy eats socks.
When up through the something or other there arose such a clatter.
That's the sound that sometimes happens
when Gary falls over the driveway xpen in the dark.
It might make him curse. Hopefully he didn't drop the other pie.
Because it's the night before Thanksgiving and I haven't even gone to
the store yet. Or even decided what to make. Someone gave me that
damn pie and it's half et already.
We are gonna need that other pie.
Thank you giant turkey for granting me a Banksy.
And would a free running a-frame be too much to ask for too?
The end.