summer tastes terrible.
if it weren't for love
and/or baseball
I would've quit this season
long ago.
well, hell,
curl my hair
and call me Aunt Linda,
because Wal-Mart has a sale
and I am next in line.
purchase exclamation marks,
go fetch the lightning,
now I wanna be Dock Boggs.
thanks for the textmessage time machine.
burning in pits for the foul,
I will forget who I am
once in a while
with a long lost curtain thompson,
ok to wish,
so long as there are poems
like this.