Last night late too much ice cream and caramel sauce,
Today not enough coffee, perhaps overabundance of loss.
Smoke alarms chirp upstairs like stilettos plunged deep into the backside,
or crazed obsessive canaries on an uncaged rampage.
As far as I can tell, and I do not lie, there’s been no fire nor heat in this house for days.
These damn quasi-birds repeat their piercing pseudo prayer as they incessantly scream,
‘where’s my fat lazy dream bride, my floor-scrubbing, quiet,
good-natured wifey?’
good-natured wifey?’
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