I’m as lost as a UPS package inside of your
animalistic literary lookout articulating 9 to 5
orotund observations in a room full of fighting flapjacks
Makes me want to grab hold of your
tender white chicken fajita underbelly and
bite it with my pumiced polished pearly white
shark teeth until you scream for Jesus
Just got back to my library lamp from my
manual fare store and rapid rewards roundtable
rapture, but it was nothing compared to
what your university must be like
Thought about handling your brown paper lunch bag
all day by myself with cooks like your mother remorse
so that now that I’m sitting not that far away
from the refrigerator only because I want to
hear its compressor motor moan

Written by Sara Fielder © May 2015