So here we are.
Today’s Horribly Local Poor Poetry Month (HoLoPoPoMo) entry attempts a sonnet:
checkout line
It happens sometimes, doesn’t it, my friends
The days arise when carbohydrates lure
When all willpower in your psyche ends
And cravings nag for goodies less than pure
The empty grocery cart is not for long
So it begins, the clearing of the shelf
A couple pints of ice cream isn’t wrong
Some cupcakes won’t completely wreck myself
But at the checkout line, I feel her eyes
The checkout girl is ringing up my chips
She notices the pudding and the pies
She notices my ever-growing hips
Oh, screw you, lady staring at my fudge
You’re not a saint yourself, so don’t you judge
The end.
Yes indeed. Welcome to me.
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