Tuesday, December 20, 2011

what a petulant nasty little bitch she was

spoiled brat of some faceless billionaire

demanding instant responses to her commands

as if the world were filled with nothing but hired help


I took my time in answering

in fact downright semi-ignored her

how she glowered in her tiny rage


and I flashed on an afterlife where I was riding on

what could only be described in earthly terms

as a conveyor belt of souls

passing her as she trudged one slow lifted leg

at a time in some celestial tar pit

muttering in a tearful despair


how hard to remember when we're wearing skin

that we all get what's coming to us


but I didn't forget this time


Content (c) 2008-2011 Philip Milito.

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