The kind that allows for lovely thoughts.
Like old fashioned raincoats
and pendulum clocks
and boats
and old books.
Just now, I was thinking of grandmas
who fasten plastic canopies over rows of curlers.
They have all just been to
some corner shop to buy lollipops for
some grandchild, despite the rain.
When I was young, my father took me to
a corner shop.
Outside the window, there is a cluster of cherry blossoms.
They sit in the foreground of distant mountains,
clouds curl over the entire scene.
The pink flowers look like great
heaps
of
birthday
frosting,
transforming the trees into fat little cupcakes, all in a row.
Which reminds me of
the nicest thing I have thought of today.
A cupcake's fart.
Pink
and warm
and airy,
and sometimes escorted by a sprinkle.
I can't think of anyone who doesn't like cupcakes...
but then, I do not know everyone.
I think Stalin probably liked cupcakes
I'm not sure about Kim Jong, though.
He is not so lighthearted as Stalin.
Maybe I will send him an invitation to my springtime cupcake affair,
and his RSVP
will let us know for certain.
On a day like today,
a rainy, spring day
perfumed by
burgeoning
cherry blossoms,
we three can sit around
drinking petit coffees from tiny cups,
munching cupcakes from pretty tins
and they will fill our mouths with pink farts.
and they will fill our mouths with pink farts.
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