June 1, early evening
honeysuckle who
would believe it
without fail this spider
a wall on which it spins
mother on the motor scooter
the boy aboard behind her
catch this breeze
sweetheart blow a kiss
whose tree was it really
and why not fight for it
I've stopped signing in
no one asks me any more
when we made a rhubarb pie
you blinked opted out
retired tablet you
can retrieve it
a full glass of cola
a return to old sins
the dream of the garbage looter
returns again to remind us
with a sneeze
who would advise this
no one true ideally
but that's just habit
start assigning kin
or barring them at the door
when you eat those carbs die
with your sweetly bloated pout
©Donald Brown 2010/2013
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