Something strangely chilling
about the word 'ribcage'
makes me shudder to think:
What's it really holding, anyway?
Optimists and onanists agree:
Somewhere there's a world
where mice die of natural causes;
where no one really knows
who cast the first stone;
where history repeats more slowly--
But don't bother calling your local travel agent.
Although I'm not a Catholic
at times I feel as though
I gave something crucial up for Lent
and never got it back.
I blame it all on a number of things
inflation and the diminished value
of the Chinese Yen included.
Don't you?
Currently reading:
"The Life of Pi" by Yann Martel.
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