A Pedestrian Poem About My Pedestrian Day

today
i dropped
the honeypot
and it flew into a million shreds!
except
it didn’t.
why would it?

it happened like

bang!

and then
the calm and quiet
ooze
of honey
slid slowly
across
the tiled
floor
carrying the glass
along with it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Best is Yet to Come, Babe

Wine
By Mark Brazaitis

But the news isn’t all bad.
Global warming, the Discovery Channel
informs us, makes certain wines taste better,
which means that in twenty years
we might all be vintners. And if grapes are
all we’ll be able to grow (on our roofs,
as the deluge swirls around us), well,
if you had to pick one fruit — or vegetable, even –
to live on for the rest of your life,
wouldn’t you pick the grape? All right,
so I’ll miss apples, oranges, pears, and plums.
I’ll miss carrots and cucumbers
and the occasional mouthful of spinach.
But raise your hand if you’ll mourn Brussels sprouts.
Our economy will be entirely wine-based,
with taxes paid in fluid ounces.
Drunk-driving laws will have to be revised, of course.
And the drinking age will be lowered
to three.
This is a future we should celebrate:
a wine bar in every house,
every house a wine bar!
Lift your glasses, let us toast –
to wine!
And let’s drink again –
to wine!
And again –
and again!
You see: Before long, we won’t remember
what we’re missing.

…
I would definitely not miss Brussels sprouts.

Poem via The Sun Magazine
Image via We Heart It