Mundane

The distance between their sanity

and winter, is their ears pinned

to cackling bogeymen on podiums,

spewing rabies on the microphone.

Fools buy the viral lie.

They, too, thought friendship is a list

and wear a new language, probably a second,

third, learnt from ranking tongues, boxing races,

licking white ice cream, factory flavoured.

Pleas lean on cold shoulders.

They’re neither Barney nor Elmo,

but got time for niceties, in random verse,

begging for likes or celebrity comments,

tagging first worlds, galaxies away.

Thoughts perched on fences.

~0~

Armineonila M.

July 2015

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