It was such a large earthworm, I wondered
if I could fry it and pass it off as dinner.
Would they notice?
After selecting tethered bananas
in a darkened produce aisle,
I tried to find milk of happiness
but tripped over a granola display
and cursed the penny thoughts
that led me to rub myself raw later.
(He is a bemused muse, that’s all I can say.)
When the rain slows down traffic
when it’s colder again
when I want a cookie or kiss
when I’m free and alive,
it’s time to go home.
Handling chicken parts, thinking of sacrifices
knowing both require a side of potatoes.
Will we be happy?
When one hole opens, a window closes
or something like that.
The Word Rummager 
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