Today’s the day
for saying no.
Or rather,
shoveling your no-no’s
like a pile of
snow and packing
them in igloo
blocks into a poem
so they don’t
so baldly show.
(Careful, buddy.)
Have you
noticed? People
are extravagantly
delicious.
Sometimes the
only thing to do
with one is
lick it like a lollipop
then leave it
on a non-stick
surface so that
when it wants
to make a
break, it can.
Forgive my
ambiguity.
“It” means man.
(Careful, buddy.)
Here’s what I
don’t understand.
Why put up a
front?
Why don’t we do
what we want?
Next time I
snap my fingers
you will
cheerfully appear.
Or, hell, crawl
like a cowed dog –
fearfully near.
Next time
I’ll be the
boss. You’ll be the whim
I simmer to a
fine soft foam –
or I give a toss.
Wrestle in
the rain and
loam until we’re
muddy. Won’t
stop until some
blood is
spilled, or love is milled.
(Careful, buddy: this
could get you killed.)
.
.
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