Tribute to National Poetry Month...
I dread this morning,
Wheels glide and then stick along the dirty linoleum floor.
Perfectly lined cereal boxes adorn the aisles,
whilst athletes and cartoon charters beckon me to take them home.
The smell of orange and raw meat lingers in the frigid air.
And I cock my head to hear "Jungle Love" over the speakers, I smile and tap my toes.
Looks like this day may get better after all.
I round the corner, enter the seasoning aisle, sneeze fifteen times and pee my pants.