My chore dress looks good on me.
A dab of detergent will get anything out
and this is the scam of therapy.
My con artist calls to confirm my appointment.
She wants my $185 which I could use
to pay the government.
I really ought to cut down
that twin elm rising out of the hedge.
The drought is in a second year.
The houseboats can touch their feet
to the bottom.
Your doctorate and zen water feature
are meaningless to me.
I will think of this ink
stain the rest of my life.
Tonight’s the summer solstice.
The air conditioner cannot keep up.
Finally, you must understand I’m being coy.
Everything is
a rejuvenation or a bill
in a sterling silver envelope
known as white oppressive paper.
To be dirty is not so bad.
I wouldn’t mind getting paint on this dress.
I wouldn’t mind at all if I had a dress, a durable
and well-made item that suits me
and is suitable to stain.