One of these days I’ll write a poem
that strips down to its macrame bikini
and flings itself from a NY Plaza Hotel
chandelier onto Donald Trump’s hair.
It’ll be a poem that crashes the hotel’s
pastry kitchen, samples all the wares,
then whisks a bottle of champagne up
to the suite with the finest Park view.
Yep, one day I will.
But not today.
Today I’m writing a poem
about the Versailles of my
parakeets’ 2-bedroom loft.
It’s come a looooong way, Baby.
My offering today for dVerse Poetry’s Open Link Tuesday .
Thank you! And happy poetry-ing.
P.S. Angel “Van Halen” Funster, my little shredder, has an orangish face from her love of carrot demolition.