The Rubber Duck stares blindly through soap scum eyes
Reeling in his expectations
Not seeing what light and spark and calluses
Have brought him
But only what pokes him in the heart
Love is wearing bi-focals
Hate marches up the walls
Trying to flee
Shower grime always looks like nature in the dark
NUBUCK LEATHER BUY CHE'EP VI-AG-RA ONLINE NOW!!! PINTLE ARGLEFAG
The forest is shedding, pine needles for junkie squirrels

P.S. You're a gay beatnik

Where do I sign up to be a gay beatnik?

The Rubber Duck stares blindly through soap scum eyes

”It Burns, It Burn!” it cries

Dr. Love notes the results on her clipboard

Around her, genetically-enhanced intelligent ducks are being subjected to countless tortures

“Why do you do this to us?” they quack incessantly

Love is wearing bi-focals

She removes them and wipes her brow

It is not easy being a cold hearted mad scientist like Dr. Love

She leaves the room and heads down the hall

She opens the door to the room labeled Drug Addicted Rodents in Their Natural Habitat

The forest is shedding, pine needles for junkie squirrels

Children of Sanchez

Love is wears bi-focals
as the forest sheds.
The rubber duck stares blindly
through soap scum eyes.
The mojo ball is twirling ouiji
pine needles for junkie squirrels?
I have never met a gay beatnik i didn't enjoy.
All the left over spaces in-between the words
laughter slids into a wormhole on hotlube
somedays you can't find a parking spot.

I am cheating here since I’m unable to write poetry due to an unfortunate accident when I was 12. I submit, for your derision, my short story. If you cross your eyes really hard, it could look like a poem I suppose….
________________________________
I reached down to grab my razor I dropped earlier when shaving my legs. Although I wasn’t really focused on anything in particular I could swear the rubber duck stares blindly through soap scum eyes noting my lack of coordination. I should start wearing my glasses more often, but I hate having to kiss Robert with the tortoise shell accountant spectacles perched on the bridge of my nose. I suppose the older I get the less blood circulation to my eyes, and I should hope my darling still finds me attractive even when his love is wearing bi-focals in a couple of decades’ time. I should also hope my wife doesn’t find out about Robert.

Enough speculating about what life will bring; it is important to concentrate on my project for this evening. Yes, the bird watching club is getting together again and I’ve yet to record my sighting for this past week. I walk out into the dense back yard behind my house and can already smell the decomposing leaves and the heavy smoky moss as I pass by the larger rocks. Looking down as I am listening for the Ovenbird (Seirus atricapillus), I notice the forest is shedding pine needles for junkie squirrels who are growing fat off the popcorn Hazel The Witch (my wife) leaves for them almost each night. She knows I hate the idea of these small woodland creatures jumping from each tree branch, zonked on carbohydrates and with bellies full of greasy butter. I guess having overweight, nervous, white trash squirrels is merely a sign of the times in which we live.

I reach for my binoculars and clear my mind of the repetitive mental chatter, and think of Robert’s Ovenbird I will have ready and waiting for him tonight.