Today is the first of August. It is hot, steamy and wet. It is raining. I am tempted to write a poem. But I remember what it said on one rejection slip: After a heavy rainfall, poems titled RAIN pour in from across the nation.
And if you cut yourself
You will think you're happy
He'll keep you in a jar
Then you'll make him happy
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
your paper will rule
ReplyDeleteHe'll give you breathing holes
ReplyDeleteThen you'll think you're happy
He'll cover you with grass
Then you'll think you're happy
Keep me in your jar and then I'll be happy. I'd probably make you happy too ... uhmm yeeeeeeh
ReplyDelete