I can almost feel blood pulsing
through
the capillaries that carry it
down
to my
fingertips
as I
press the computer keys
to type
this drivel.
I have
nothing much to say
but I
need to say it for another five days,
because
April is the month of
30 poems
in 30 days,
and this
is only number 25.
So if
you stick with me, gentle reader,
you may
learn more of my
very,
very ordinary life
my cats,
my dog,
my weird
little hang-ups,
and
weirder little random thoughts
that
stroll through my head
mostly unbidden, and usually hidden
from you and you and you.
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