There was a lingering
scent of moron in the room, so I knew you had just been there, not to mention
your annoying habit of eating avocados and spitting out the pits. Your fingerprints were all over the ends of
your hands and it was your shade of lipstick they found on your own collar.
The candle dripped on the tablecloth
a drift of smoke still lingered
Frosting had the tell-tale signs
of where there’d been a finger,
Streamers lay across the floor
balloons were all deflated
children all had gone outside
adults were now elated,
Lipstick on a coffee cup
crayons upon the wall
Sparky hid beneath the bed
with his favorite ball,
A crumple of paper, a pile of bows
what was in this one?
nobody knows.
A jump-drive of photos
What was their name?
friends drift apart
like the smoke from the flame.
ZC
For what we have there is no cure
Stand way back – don’t breathe,
The is no hope and that’s for sure
behind the rope - please,
It spreads by way of grammar
Most things get mispronounced
You’ll even get a stammer
when on you this does pounce,
Vocabulary suffers
speech will run a muck
no literary buffers
I’m afraid you’ll
just be stuck.
You’ll need to pay attention
take notes just to be sure
for the things I fail to mention
may cause you all to slur.
Here’s to the things
always just out of reach,
a Harvard degree
or a house at the beach,
Six winning numbers
A souffle that won’t sink,
A Mother-in-law
who won’t drive me to drink,
A boss who don’t care
about a past that is checkered
A judge who’ll expunge
my entire record,
A flight on a plane
with leg-room not thin
where knees are not pressed
up under my chin.
A Blog where each word
is spelled as it should
on a scale up to ten
I’d get a GOOD.
There are robots clicking at my Blog
Widgets in my soup
I mostly wander in a fog
I never know the scoop
The train has left the station
on the platform I still stand
there’s too much automation
and I’m not in demand
I think I’ll find an antique shop
and sit upon a table
I’ll be beside the Lava Lamp
Half Off, upon my label
Dust me when you get a chance
make sure my shoes are tied
I’ve never ever been enhanced
Even though I tried
My skills are somewhat rusty
I haven’t got Intel
I smell a little musty
but hopefully I’ll sell
No postman comes on Sunday
no letters in the box
there are no scheduled break times
no one’s staring at the clock
No bosses wearing neck ties
with scowls upon their face
Sunday is a day of rest
it is my Happy Place
The saddest part of Sunday
Monday’s close behind –
barely time to catch my breath
relax and just unwind
I never cared for Mondays
its happiness I seek
a silly place to put it
the beginning of the week
Some day I’ll retire
and Mondays I’ll erase
no clocks will dare wake me
a smile upon my face
The biggest problem with this
at lease, what I’ve been told
by the time I can retire
my friends will all be old
ZC
