02.17.18
written by: David J. Roussel
So, this is the morning
in February’s malaise.
Doesn’t this kind of thing
normally wait for summer?
The beleaguered cadence.
The mild hostility
that breeds indifference
and malice.
Oh, how I have missed you,
my cunning rabbit warren
of reason,
and hatred,
and vanity.
The world is so boring,
so righteous,
so indignant,
without your swanky bitchiness.
Oh, February!
I long to see you go,
so I might make a pass
at your brighter, longer sister.
Who dresses in lighter clothes
and doesn’t constantly remind us
that we gave up our resolutions
2 weeks ago.
No one cares
that you don’t get a birthday every year.
You’re an adult,
buy your own balloons.
As many as you want.
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