The Fools of April
2004-04-01 @ 12:56 a.m.
Limerick lines run off his lips and riddle their ways to common ears. Minds fat with unused intellect melt at his wordplay.
A clever one, this one, sneaking ants into your sugar bowl. He schemes a scheme of fun to him, a laugh to him, but hell to you.
Down a one-way street of deception he speeds on by, sports car mind burning rubber on asphalt, leaving tracks of black behind, and you ahead, the doe in the headlights.
He's a bright one.
...and he sped over you.
Mouth agape. Eyes wide.
everything © Claudia (2003-2008)