At Least Four Minutes. Don’t Ask

In order to explain myself, a croissant must be placed upon my upturned forehead for at least four minutes. Don’t ask why I need this action to transpire, just comply with my request and you will be briefed on my view of how things took such a sharp turn for the worse at Jovie’s funeral service.

–Four minutes later–

You may remove the croissant. If you’re hungry, you may eat it. I have no use for it anymore. Jovie was an angry man, so I found it fitting to bring a stink bomb to the proceedings. As they always say, he would have wanted it that way.


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.

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