Honeysuckle Evenings

You came up on me like a five o’ clock shadow–
Barely there, butĀ attention-grabbing,
A touch of wetness and a blink of Spring,
A sniff of sadness and some other thing–
Melting ice and powdered sugar,
A half-lit porch with a creaky swing;
“Summer’s here,” you keep whispering.
I’m listening, always listening;
I cannot tame this barbarian.

A Valley Girl’s Lament

I, like, wish that my sentences?
Weren’t, like, so lame?
You know? Like, all questions?
And they all sound, like, the same?

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Because Russ L asked

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