My workaday blog morphs unceremoniously
ejaculating delight-speak with blurbs
stripped from grains of rice
by interns who happen along.
Newhires arrive on the heels of spring.
They peek behind the curtain
despite admonitions
and find me borrowing a rototiller
from my neighbor
a former munchies poster child
who now moonlights as an FBI informant.
He wears a flowered codpiece.
His standard poodle jerks me around the block
leaving me stranded mid-sentence.
Someone will surely stumble upon
the brevity of my short story
releasing the codex of my dreams.
I worry unannounced departures.
Letters of rejection lie unopened on my table.
