Post by Ron Buck (halfshell) on Jun 19, 2009 7:25:02 GMT -5
Sunday Morning Politics (ver 3)
.
On the lip of the white sill (freshly painted
five years ago), a red glass plate says, hello!
A potted femme fatale cactus sits atop,
six-blossom tendril arms glaze the window.
The bacon curls and spits. The reconditioned
coffee-maker coughs. I break three eggs and
turn a page on Wednesday’s paper. I’m caught
off-guard and wonder why the President is laughing.
But to my relief I realize he’s just across
the way from the Entertainment Section.
I catch a smile across my face about to grin
just when it comes to a nosy mind the toast
has scorched. I cut the crust, scrape black dust,
butter-up and crunch on the remainder.
Sunday Morning Politics (ver 2)
.
On the lip of the white sill (freshly painted
five years ago), a red glass plate says, hello!
A cactus in a pot sits on top, its six-blossom
tendril arms lean to kiss the window.
The bacon curls and spits. The reconditioned
coffee-maker coughs. I break three eggs and
turn a page on Wednesday’s paper. I’m caught
off-guard and wonder why the President is laughing.
But to my relief I realize he’s just across
the way from the Entertainment Section.
I catch a smile across my face about to grin
just when it comes to a nosy mind the toast
has scorched. I cut the crust, scrape black dust,
butter-up and crunch on the remainder.
Sunday Morning Politics
.
On the lip of the white sill (freshly painted
five years ago), a red glass plate says, hello!
and just above in a pot, the cactus--
six-blossom tendril arms kiss the window.
The bacon curls and spits. The reconditioned
coffee-maker coughs. I break three eggs and
turn a page on Wednesday’s paper. I’m caught
off-guard and wonder why the President is laughing.
But to my relief I realize he’s just across
the way from the Entertainment Section.
I catch a smile across my face about to grin
just when it comes to a nosy mind the toast
has scorched. I cut the crust, scrape black dust,
butter-up and crunch on the remainder.
[/size]
.
On the lip of the white sill (freshly painted
five years ago), a red glass plate says, hello!
A potted femme fatale cactus sits atop,
six-blossom tendril arms glaze the window.
The bacon curls and spits. The reconditioned
coffee-maker coughs. I break three eggs and
turn a page on Wednesday’s paper. I’m caught
off-guard and wonder why the President is laughing.
But to my relief I realize he’s just across
the way from the Entertainment Section.
I catch a smile across my face about to grin
just when it comes to a nosy mind the toast
has scorched. I cut the crust, scrape black dust,
butter-up and crunch on the remainder.
Sunday Morning Politics (ver 2)
.
On the lip of the white sill (freshly painted
five years ago), a red glass plate says, hello!
A cactus in a pot sits on top, its six-blossom
tendril arms lean to kiss the window.
The bacon curls and spits. The reconditioned
coffee-maker coughs. I break three eggs and
turn a page on Wednesday’s paper. I’m caught
off-guard and wonder why the President is laughing.
But to my relief I realize he’s just across
the way from the Entertainment Section.
I catch a smile across my face about to grin
just when it comes to a nosy mind the toast
has scorched. I cut the crust, scrape black dust,
butter-up and crunch on the remainder.
Sunday Morning Politics
.
On the lip of the white sill (freshly painted
five years ago), a red glass plate says, hello!
and just above in a pot, the cactus--
six-blossom tendril arms kiss the window.
The bacon curls and spits. The reconditioned
coffee-maker coughs. I break three eggs and
turn a page on Wednesday’s paper. I’m caught
off-guard and wonder why the President is laughing.
But to my relief I realize he’s just across
the way from the Entertainment Section.
I catch a smile across my face about to grin
just when it comes to a nosy mind the toast
has scorched. I cut the crust, scrape black dust,
butter-up and crunch on the remainder.
[/size]
