Thursday, January 26, 2017

Somersault

Somersault, you
got some nerve. Summer
assaults the senses and sensibilities
of misfortune. Irony can’t be troubled
and I don’t presume to predict. Wildly
or otherwise is the format of my flattery.
I’d risk the likes of retribution or specified
results to ice-down the heat. Of your laugh,
I find only admiration and self-scorn
that it offends so. What
may I do to please-yes-pleasure
you. I do not like
the sun or sarcasm of palomino
girls in bikini bathing
suits(perhaps french): fried
and freshly shaven. Italian ice is no different
than warm weather treats elsewhere. Cold and sweet
are the flavors of the week-the month-the season. Avoidance
is the ultimate solution, not ultimatums. All will pass
but not at will.


Labels: Somersault

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