even more crimes

the only person
I hate more
than the subject
of my last poem
is whoever spilled
a raw egg or
a rotten piece
of lettuce
on the floor
in the middle of the bar
area at the Sidewalk Café.

no joke, I actually did
slip and fall down
and hurt my knee
and though thankfully
my tights are unharmed,
some attractive people
chatting away nearby
saw me go sprawling
and solicitously
asked if I was okay
because my fall was
so embarrassingly,
obviously painful.

so double fuck you,
fuckface. may you
rot in hell
with your lettuce
and your carelessness.

Published by

R. Brookes McKenzie

what fresh hell is this

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