Prose & Chauns

It’s not that odd

to write a poem

on this day of Saints,

feeling keen—in my green

fluorescent body paint…

 ♣

It’s just that God

is never home

–but below pickin’ clover,

$ making bail $

for wayward “Gaels”

the CHP pulled over…

 ♣ 

The silly sods

they shouldn’t roam!

Though alibis abound…

as rev’lers will

downplay their swill

to save a trip downtown…

  ♣

They’ll holler fraud!

They’ll blame the broad!

They’ll fault their buddy Sean…

to drastic measure

> leaps a leper <

shirking off his Chaun…

 ♣

©Karen Robiscoe