I can’t see it. In other words I don’t.
Let me be because I won’t.
What is it about absolutes that rant?
The positive and the negative in a pant.
A house with a broken window is a pain.
It should have been allowed to flourish
inside and out before the rain.
Who lived there is what I cherish.
My age doesn’t believe in ghosts.
Here today and gone tomorrow is most
likely to be an expression of my will
in a houseboat grounded upon a hill.
The comfortable between love and hate
don’t ask to put up with a peace of surprise.
Bring out those drones loose in the crate.
Terror is within us so don’t despise.
Then we ranted in a cottage on Cedar Lake.
Away from politics just the two of us.
Bored as warthogs for God sake!
She played on an organ. I with a bust.
You know how it goes:
“I want you. You want me.
Together we bite from necks to toes.
But then we go and nobody knows.“
A ghoul’s honeymoon. That’s how it was.
Bits and pieces of Santa Claus.
On the whole we had a very good time.
Nothing made sense except our rhyme.