Most Likely To. . .

And now,

now you are always in school…

Measured by


pixelated yardsticks

a slice on the bias

that slaps

pictured apples,

orange paintings, and

full-on lemon poetry with umbrella measure

–umbrellas the stoners can’t manage–

since they wear skullcaps,

mirrored sunglasses,

and hang out behind the church getting high…

Skyscraping comparisons are made

— different trains on the same track–

blue-printing incidental white lies

as instant if forced word problem

that chalks up hourly.

like flies on seriously rotted cafeteria food.

(a selection of diamonds, meerkats, and tomatoes)

but really,

how often do those things blend

outside of news streams?

–of Stone Soup?

–of 20 questions?

Highest heels ricochet down interminable halls

> the ones no one wears for long <

echoing with authority

but the cool kids

were never in the building

they went off campus for lunch

and never came back…

Never noticed

your mad moves

–my sick skills–


his individuated conformity–

scribbling across yearbooks

(or 50x a day book)

who cares if the picture rubberstamped

(Mr. President, in each instance)

is photo-bombed

its transcendent caption

just the littlest bit obscene…

As long as the vote’s in

for prettiest lies.

About Charron's Chatter

I bring to you an arrow, whole, Use it, or break it, But if you choose to take it --Know-- With it also, I will go. © Karen Robiscoe @1992

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