Robert Colpitts

Little Greta
Chases a duck

The duck
says

“No you did not, sir,’ Faith says to me in reaction to my title.

“I didn’t mean it literally you goose.  How dare you satirize my writing with your sexual innuendos!”  I respond.

Faith mocks me with her clown nose.  She knows that nothing beats a good laugh like a clown with no remorse.  I make a move to kiss her, but, instead, bite the clown nose and, shifting my momentum away from her, tear the red bubble from her face. 

Faith, you see, if you did not know by now, does not really exist, and I can do whatever I want to her.  I decide only to take her clown nose because I am nice.  Remember that.  I could have taken her socks.

“You marvel at your own inability to find what you are looking for,” she suddenly says.  “You know it is I, and only I, that holds your heart.  Your search will get you nowhere, for I do not truly exist.”

Did I tell you that I ate a cookie tonight?  Actually two of them.  Kind of eh kind of cookehs.  Faith does not know that I am distracted.  Having power here is like having power in the shower.  It’s wet.

“Stay focused you idiot.”

I smile.  Focused on what?

Banana
Bye
You were
To be
Eaten
By
Me

Instead
I eat
Another

The other
Is
Better

Naturally

Faith, outside on an idyllic summer day.  Folding the just-aired out laundry.  Her husband comes up behind her, thrusts his hips against her backside, kisses her on the cheek, and says, “You are so lovely out here:  an angel of perfection keeping our family clean and warm.  You are the sunny love of my life.”

Faith, not wishing to excite me in such an absurd fictional construction, starts whistling and continues to fold the laundry. 

This, I drag from the epic bottom of boredom.  Even Faith cannot save me from it.  Writing like a hole in a tea cup.

Blech!  It spreads well, though.  Like super chunky peanut butter.

Being polite
When something is
Amiss

Is the
Cornerstone
Of a
Good Life

I am
Learning

Life
You
And
I

Face
Bravely
Towards
Nice

Gazing
Thinly
At yesterday

The one that
Doesn’t
Exist

A strange
Thought
to wake up
To:

Yesterday
Was
Wrong

Um…no?

Creeping
Like
Boom
On
My
Bright
Day

A long
Lumbering
Drip

Marks
Courses
Changed
No Different

Than the
Wet streak
Left
Lingering

To mourn
An
Imperfect
Life
Still
Lived

Sees
One
Day

Marching

Sadly

To

Farewell