Sorry to be late. I have no excuse. Hope you all are well.
Sometimes It Gets Too Weird
My main squeeze complains.
The wicker apple collects
too much dust and fuss
while some slack green fool
strips the city. Meanwhile those dogs
plop their poop off leash
no matter the signs
and portents.
A blue bottle
nearby seems to hold
directions within.
I maybe just make them out:
"Build the small tower
(damn budget constraints)
by the turgid drive time stream.
Force feed red Old Nick."
March 17, 2014 2:11 PM
Written for Brenda Warren's Sunday Whirl
And I thought bluebottles were experimental drones! We will be forever plagued with dog poop until we teach them to read.
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