Noxious fumes have got a grip on me–
there’s no mistaking a fatal odor
for a month-old egg salad. Oh,
apparently there is. Thank you,
Earl Tupper, for living your dream
and letting us forget about leftovers
for a while until they turn color
or at least grow fur.
Author: Aidan Badinger
I am a poet.
I write poems.
Titles and subjects and subsequent readership are all part of one fragmented figment of our universe, and it's nice that we take it so seriously. Hopefully the craft remains and grows stronger for our children.
View all posts by Aidan Badinger