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Succor (not born every minute)

Karen Robiscoe dba CHARRONs CHATTER

stranded on a

dessert isle

in sea of caramel topping ,

I swam across

that sticky sauce

snacking without stopping,

the shore I reached

was Sugar beach

a shining bit o’ grit,

which crystaled sweet

stuck to feet

to belly and to hip.

and so I left

before my heft

rendered me a whale,

in search of flavor

that I could savor

and jerry-rig a sail.

prompt: desert

On the Fence

Life is a test.

Both multiple choice

and true

or false

so black

the write bubble

–and postulate why

(perhaps an essay…

perhaps a posted essay so format mimics creed)

since Number 2

is awfully hard to

erase

~except in cursive~

and machines

have no margin

for

human error.

prompt: false