There is a young woman who thinks my poetry could carry a ball of twine.
Uh…
well, more than that,
tonight my sister’s got some excitement
that we’re all talking accessibility in writing,
because of some comment she made…
and I declared myself the master of the Blobs,
and I gave someone I don’t actually know romance advice,
because she writes sweet poetry and was in need.
and supposed there’s rhythm to the way these things go,
or that’s what the woman with the pantries says.
