Or hailstorms to build split-level houses.
When both bells & birds stop. The big mouth
of a refrigerator. Or irony sitting on the
back porch. Girls with flowers to push broom.
The skinny sequoia in a newspaper. Lousy wig.
Lazy lock. A giant running backwards...
fistfuls of handy-wipes
doodles on a napkin
Trying to figure out the best way to
disguise a wish-bone.
One large alarm clock ticking
down the hole...
more sentimental rain
a self-indulgent cloud
I could donate my front door to science,
she teases, with her hand on the knob.
And you're about as natural as a freeway, I
reply, because I think the words hit & run.
You see how difficult gift-giving is?