No Time For Comics

feather21No Time For Comics

Irony lost on the glassy-eyed,

hung-over with the everyday

milk and cereal of normal.

Sarcasm flat as a stale can

of ginger-ale on a nightstand,

all sugary sweet but no sass.

It’s hard to pull out the funny;

let the creative liar loose

to tickle the bone low on the ribs.

There’s no mood for laughter

or the odd giggle to tumble

over a chewed-up bottom lip.

No time for comics;

no punch-line for a wake-up call.

©2013

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