The Whole Kit ‘n’ Caboodle

I kicked over the iced tea
purely by accident
and along came a mole man,
or a man made of moles,
I can’t quite recollect
much these days anyway.
What with the internet and all,
there’s so much to be discussed,
or discus-ed, tossed
into the breeze
and left on a whim
without the cream filling.

So I drank
the rest of the tea
left in the cup and stood up.
I proclaimed to the world
that today is just one
of many such days,
and it’s only a matter of time
before all those days
catch up with you.

I sat back down uncomfortably
because of the pool
forming at my feet.
My left leg quivered
and I rose once again,
wetting my shoes
in what was once
an important beverage.

I laughed to the Gods,
“My word,
what an insufferable foe
this liquid has proven to be.
I must sidestep this situation
and allow for more space.”

Why should a couch matter
when all we need to do
is unearth the twelfth installment
of a well-read publication
from before the dawn of the internet?

Sitting is the last thing
we should be contemplating.
Even contemplating
the idea of contemplating sitting
is boring as all get-out.

A fleeting expanse of dandelions
doesn’t know it’s considered
an urban nuisance, a weed factory
in the heart of civilization.
It rolls through grass
and paints a yellow picture
of the past landscape, now foreign.

What we need
is some kind of
feather boa situation, where
donning such a garment
would be considered
a boost to morale
in this organization,
especially since
we’re so concerned
with increasing sales
of pinecone-inspired trinkets
to be displayed
prominently in the home.

I marked my mattress
on both sides,
heads and tails.
I know with 100% certainty
which side will come up
when I flip it,
rendering probability
a thing of the past.

When you behold
the average sidewalk banana,
you wonder if it’ll bounce
when you throw it against the ground.

But you dare not touch the fruit;
who knows where it’s been?
If you were braver,
you’d pick it up and eat it.