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Friday, November 10, 2017

My Pleasure

 My Pleasure   Poem


My pleasure to serve
My pleasure to fix
My pleasure to give
My pleasure to help
















My pleasure

Fast food restaurants never serve spinach,
spoils soon, raises costs reduces profits.
Do not greet me to dine with Yogi bear.
Creep Speak, servant robots obey the boss
Greasy floor is no picnic with red pear.


My pleasure

I’m number five in line in the drive-through.
Badass behind honks horn and curses shit.
A bag of Reece Pieces in my car,
I get out and give him the solution.
“Hungry? Maybe this eases your heart wait.”
He says nothing but stops noise pollution.

My pleasure

Coyote carcass on the road in lanes
Hook a wince I haul it off to safety
There’s a man who drives wild past every day
coming and going, today makes contact
This one time he stops to help and I say.

My pleasure



Caroline Gerardo copyright  © November 10, 2017

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