Rolling ocean waves;
Sure way to serenity
With a seagull’s call.
“Better butter my beans.”
“Better butter and pepper my beans.”
“Better butter and pepper my beans and broil my beef.”
“Better butter and pepper my beans, broil my beef, and bring my beverage.”
“Better butter and pepper my beans, broil my beef, bring my beverage, and burp me.”
“Better butter and pepper my beans, broil my beef, bring my beverage, burp, and bathe me.”
“Better butter and pepper my beans, broil my beef, bring my beverage, burp and bathe me and b . . . .”
My feet are famous,
They’re like Ghandi’s and Frodo’s;
My sole claim to fame.
Next best thing to traveling,
Tasty feats ahead,
Simple and gourmet cuisine,
Can’t journey, will dine.
Sunday: backyard – Honey-mustard chicken
Monday: patio – Supreme nacho grande
Tuesday: dining room – Oven-fried fish with squid ink pasta and garlic bread
Wednesday: dining room – Chicken biscuit casserole
Thursday: patio – Deep dish pepperoni arugula pizza
Friday: dining room – Mung bean stew with nappa cabbage and pork rinds
Saturday: backyard – Pineapple chicken and vegetables stir fry
He crawls out of bed, sneaks a peak at the clock radio sitting on the nightstand by his side. Running his fingers through his stringy roots, he recalls the choice he made the night before. Instead of a lovefest with his woman, he opted to binge watch his addiction, Narcos.
Part 1: Pandemic
“Unh . . . ”
Part 2: Pandemonium
“Mwahaha . . .”
Part 3: Panacea
“Ah . . .”
Lots of laughs and fun,
Parading around the house,
Me, myself, and I.
A party of one,
Who could ask for more?
No crowding allowed,
No parties, concerts, or games,
To flatten the curve.
Damned to inertia,
Waiting for life to happen,
Can’t do the limbo.
The clock struck midnight;
You waited too long to leave,
and overstayed your welcome.
You’re now in my yard,
To greet the trick or treaters,
Oh, my little pumpkin.
Rules were laid out,
To go before 12 o’clock,
Or you become my jack-o’-lantern.
Yet you laughed,
Told me to chill,
Now your turn to be still.