So here we are.
Today’s Horribly Local Poor Poetry Month (HoLoPoPoMo) entry is an utterly uninspired attempt to take on a sad stereotype in the most tired, well-trod way:
black friday
Oh what fun it is to shop
In hours small and wee
Oh what fun it is to stop
And take a break to pee
Oh what fun it is to find
The store is out of stock
Oh what fun it is to blind
Yourself with sticker shock
Oh what fun it is to eat
A Clif Bar on the run
And when I say “what fun it is”
Not once do I mean fun
The end.
Yes indeed. Welcome to me.
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