Longing to Yearn
by Steve Mitchell
And now, a classy poem.
Would I could escape this earthbound hour,
with fearsome, trumpet blasts, the harnessed power
I’d launch myself aloft above the- WAIT!
That means farts! We looked it up. What are you trying to pull? Shut it down. This isn’t classy. This is terrible.
SHUT. IT. DOWN.
*So sorry about that, Ladies and Gentlemen. It’s always the quiet ones. Unfortunately, we have nothing else scheduled, so…
Oh. Well, here’s something. It’s a haiku from the archives, previously unseen. It’s a little old and it’s not very classy, but, alas. Enjoy.
and still no Wi-Fi
© Steve Mitchell 1975