Well, last night I just had to read Vogue's little piece on Taylor Swift in a cutesy romper--in pastel blues and pinks of course.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCLXXXI)


Pastels were lo, the order of these frail
Hours of new life was it?  So, wherefore thence
Do my thoughts swear red would be, for intents,
The thing to wear?  No tulip flaunts to scale
Such shades quite yet, Saint Patrick's Day in pale
Excuse what makes Chicago's river hence
Um, green as leprechauns or clover, whence
I've been in green to match my eyes' detail.
Yes, I've been wearing Irish green as twere
Since Febry gave up last the ghost, but threw
The towel in on that cause ere time in poor
Scuse, yesterday, and now am mixt up too.
No corned beef with green cabbage to assure
My ancestors I have been faithful.  You?

16Mar19c

A piece of the pie
Is what all seek to obtain,
Instead of the bar.

Bar for average,
But if in dark chocolate, is
Tastier than Pi.

...I tried M&M's that evening, and I dunno, they were tasty.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCLII)


If languid hours trick out these wastes til hence
I feel within my bones that April'd hail
Soon, what's the diffrence now in sheer betrayl,
That March looks cold and grey, as if suspense
Was buried in deep slumber like fr'intents
Last May's old tulip bulbs?  Snow's weary scale
Of white is aged; no icicles detail
The silent eaves, and I feel dull sans whence.
Yes, poor man's tea with breakfast was good, fer
All that, but not inspiring.  Sparrows, too,
Cried sweetly as I passed the window, poor
As never feeling like it should be to
Effect worth half a note.  And soup in tour
Now warming as rolls rise, what's left to woo?

07Mar19b

Late night Macca-run,
Busted up hand-me-down car
Rattling along the rocky road
With his warm hoodie draped around me
Like a toga with a Supreme sticker.

AC's turned off in traffic
As the night breeze is all we need
To enjoy this comfortable night
In his car, together.

I order a hot chocolate.
He orders a cheeseburger.
And we share the fries,
And I drain his pepsi
Until all there is
Is a pile of melted ice
And the soft pallet of knock-off cola
- in which both of us refuse to drink the leftover contents.

The cup is still warm in my hands,
And the car smells of fried food and cocoa powder.
His eyes are focused on the road,
While mine are focused elsewhere.

Soon,
He drops me home,
and ditches the trash.
And that was the end of our quiet late-night dinner-date.

Surfing in a sweet dream
Stop and sipping on winter wind
Watching the wind cut through this chin
Broken hearts are waiting to pin
Fix them to beautiful scene
Glad to know you're in my team
You're my choco ice cream

They bumpy
Crunchy chocolate
Chip cookie
Oh how delicious!
With each bite
I die a little inside
Because soon
This moment
Will end