A room full of craven sunflowers. It's aloft,
But not a loft, not being so expensive,
But certainly high in other,
Not only illegal, costly and dear ways.
Snot. That happens. But the silverware
Is taken out like a South American "dictator",
Handled exactly "like it should be,"
Careful around the throat of its utility,
And then ol' Dadbag wheels in
Wetting his slanket to make a sharp point
To the diplomatic kiddies about age, mortality, and most
Likely perceived, half-forgotten feelings of
Sacrifice and ingratitude.
Then I can't really remember what all happened,
Everything getting sacrificed and all,
But even if your mom's super-dead,
She was there too, and snot--
You watched it all played out,
At least once again, which always,
Though one can never & because
Be too little sure, feels like perpetuity.