Thursday, January 09, 2014

Strawberry Malt

This morning
I put him in front of the television
For thirty minutes
So I could write this poem
It’s nearly ten and
I’m still writing it
Who knows what I was really trying to do
When I failed to hammer that can of paint shut
Last year
My only can of Strawberry Malt
I certainly would have liked to know
Two nights ago
When I was planning to touch up the living room walls and
The strawberry malt
Was more like a real strawberry malt
Then it should have been
I wonder what unhappy surprise will be waiting for me
Ten or fifteen years from now and
Whether I will be able to fix that
With Windex and

A roll of paper towel

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