Hear myself rambling
on, using sixty words when
six would do, and cringe.
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Hear myself rambling
on, using sixty words when
six would do, and cringe.
Hear myself rambling
on, using sixty words when
six would do, and cringe.
Keep your Swiffer. I
like bucket, water, ropy
fringe head, old school clean
Those clothes. That house. I’d
plead agoraphobia,
never leave the grounds.
What’s your platform? they
ask, but frown at haiku blog.
Thanks. You’ve proved them wrong.
Aim, fire! Chemical
fragrance confirms strong toxins
at work. Die, germs, die!
No caveman struggle
to keep warm. Just a cozy
Sunday ritual.
She shares her story
of youthful risks. Wants my thoughts.
Jesus, you’re still nuts.
Fork scrapes styrofoam,
a sound that grates my nerves. I’d
rather cook myself.