but then I though keeping quiet about it might appear even ruder.
At first I though I had died and gone to heaven
but that scapegrace the unruly sun informed me otherwise.
I am in my heavyset pants and find this occupation of beekeeper
though I have yet to meet my first bee.
We don’t know if I get to keep the hat and veil.
‘Too hot,’ he said. ‘Too hot for everything!’
He so caring, so mundane. ‘…to have you on board.’
Bulgarian choirs everywhere stood up and sang the song of the rent.
It was lovely. Now I shall take a short vacation,
proof that I am needed here. Nobody wants my two cents
anymore, I believe. To some it was like skating in summer.
A small turret perched over the lake. It exploded.
That’s the way I feel about people taking me out
to some nice repast, and afterwards you go home and
go over everything that was stated. I prefer flowers and breathing.