Saturday, January 11, 2014

mmlxvii

Situated, you must sell something, become boutique.
                                                                 —Jackqueline Frost

Revelry.  Today I’ll just make it all up.
But it wasn’t the treasure hunt we’d
all hoped for.  “What if I just flushed
you down the toilet?” ... No response.

It is nearly the noon hour and my
heartache is appropriate.  Dressed
as if ready for any occasion, we
hop into the cab, the three of us.

I did a bazillion loads of laundry
until ALL THE LAUNDRY IS DONE.
Then what?  I don’t think I even
took a nap.  Would that I were

medicating on something like
music.  Even the soundtrack
to a pornographic master-
piece.  Instead, I lie like a

thousand bookbags in
bed eating orange
flavored tic tacs.
Much obliged.