EMERSON DOESN'T LIKE TO GO TO BED
No, wait, don't leave yet
She grabs my arm, holds it tight.
Pull away, empty.
But you have to sleep
What a lame statement.
JOANNA HAS LEARNED A BAD WORD
It begins with F,
ends in ing. I said it, she heard.
My bad, my real bad.
(Adjective, not noun.)
WHAT ELSE CAN I DO?
They are still so small.
I chase them and scare them up,
squeeze for all I'm worth.
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1 comment:
I, too, found your blog inquisitive. Wait, what does that mean? Seriously, I loved it.
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