Friday’s Bumper Sticker
Coffee
Roasted
dark
hot and waiting
aromas drift
and capture
carry
and hold
heat comes
to my lips
and tongue
and the flavor
slides up
into my
mind
Persistent Assistant
A persistent assistant
and ever-present friend
he’s with me wherever I’m at
it’s an established trend
In the bed
on the pot
across the street
by the vacant lot
On the chair
when I read
by the table
when I feed
He needs to know
what I’m doing
and watches around corners
(I don’t know who he thinks he’s fooling)
Wherever I go
he is there
as if my being
is his only care
But once in a while
I spy on him as he’s sleeping
watching him move paws and whiskers
wondering, what’s he dreaming?
Hello, It’s December
Hello, it’s December
the month after November
just a few months removed from September
do you see where this is going?
Hello, it’s a new day
are you gonna do a new way
or are you just gonna stay
with the hand that you’ve been playing?
Hello, it’s a new time
but I can’t find another rhyme
to carry on this theme of mine
so I guess that I’ll be endng.
Old
old boy
old dog
old cat
old man
old song
old ways
old love
old pain
old dreams
old life
old math
old strife
old hope
old home
old sticks
old bones
Floof-exchange
Floof-exchange (floofinition) – Place where animals go to enter quantum portals that allow them to live better lives in alterverses. Sometimes they take their current bodies with them but have the power to leave that body behind, sometimes later returning to that same body. Because of the floof-exchange’s nature, it’s possible for animals to arrive seconds before they left so it appears that they never departed at all.
In use: “Multiple floof-exchanges exist wherever humans lived, but humans lack the intelligence and skill sets to see or understand them, and the animals use them freely.”
The Madness
Yeah, here we go, a first-world rant.
I’m in ‘my’ coffee shop this morning. It’s about fifty degrees and sunny outside. In here, they have the air-conditioning running. Whaaat? But worse, they’re playing Christmas lullabies. You know what I mean. A Christmas lullaby is one of those old chestnuts being played at a slooow, mellooow speeed, so slow that the singer sounds like they’re on the verge of going to sleep themselves.
I think, the madness, technology, calendar, holidays, and expectations clashing. Oh, the horror, the horror.
Remember, only two million years till Christmas. Make it count.
Michael Seidel, writer 