Sour Razz

Monday morning empty brain

you said I’m as sour as

blueberry sour razz when

I don’t get the joke, and

yes that is quite often

but just because a frown

has formed a thousand

times and now my brow is

furrowed doesn’t mean

I thought you were mean

or meant to hurt my feelings

promise I am super fun and

funny even though you had to

tell me I did not understand

the “joke” about third wheeling.

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Green felt surface beneath my toes and it looks like subuteo oh you beauty, oh look at the carpet they’ve rolled out for us and, little daisy yellow stars in a galaxy of greenest green. The green that only comes after long grey days and cold nights where your lips could turn blue if the windows open, but bluebells shake in gentle whispers on the breeze that say something new is coming like they had promised all of us before without result, but bluebells don’t lie the same way the skies do and bright blue makes way to slate grey and snow comes, when you thought it was time for snow cones, I always said the best thing about April was the cold.