Beware, for the day
comes at a steep cost to tax
cheats and laggards, too.

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Gallons of sugar
water soothe on hot days. And
then, the kidney stones.

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Pollen-encrusted
world keeps the nostrils clenched and
the oxygen scarce.

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The land zips by, but
with a tactile breath. Helmet
on, feet pedaling.

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Virtual greens on
widescreens lie in wait for crowds
of upscale gawkers.

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Robot slave who takes
out the trash and feeds the dogs
and raps: Where are you?

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Somehow, it always
gets done. Leftover items
seem to disappear.

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People will talk, but
then someone actually
listens. Game over.

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Questions get harder.
The prizes, bigger. No help
from the audience.

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Spring sometimes likes to
hide herself between winter
and summer, too cute.

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Each still-hidden egg,
a ticking time bomb rotting
in its hand-dyed shell.

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Eggs to hide, baskets
to deliver. A bunny’s
work is never done.

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Uploaded on the
holy e-tablet are the
1010 commandments.

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The shy will speak, the
dead will rise, and blood will pour
from heaven’s earhole.

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The end of a long
day brings not relaxation
but a renewed hope.

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