Nearby, a mother
pokes at her salad while her
sons push food around .
Non-eaters eat lunch at Panera Bread
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Nearby, a mother
pokes at her salad while her
sons push food around .
Nearby, a mother
pokes at her salad while her
sons push food around .
Trying to make work
indulgent, a nine-to-five
wage slave’s fantasy.
based on a poem written by M.
They say I need a
man. Chocolate. But an eye
lash curler’s enough.
original source:
I don’t need chocolate to eat or a man in my life
I just think I do
because of the media
All I really need is my eyelash curler.
Malted milk eggs, Peeps,
solid bunnies (eaten ears
first) hide in fake grass.
Invested with deep
meaning, treasures buried by
trash. Dust, dirt their shroud.
Fine fountain pens, ink,
leather folders make work seem
like gracious living.
Being green we use
fabric bags old boxes to
wrap gifts. No trees die.
Like laser pointers
they blind in red green blue as
they save the planet
Can days be merry
and bright? Jobs – like ornaments –
fragile, out of reach.
Directed at me
all day it follows me from
room to room in heat.