This week’s Little Vines.
4556.
work fast work very fast,
eyelid,
blink back those tears
4557.
I scream bloody murder is it a shark a jellyfish?
these slimy oceanic tentacles reaching out for me? No.
Drat this seaweed wrapping itself around my legs.
4558.
I still cherish the memory of our relationship –
a precious unbelievable seventeen seconds
I spent in fatuous admiration –
then she stepped off the elevator.
4559.
the rhythm leaks
the low notes are soggy
she’s singing with a bad cold again
4560.
just hurry and don’t ask questions
The guru guides the dramatized truth
You chase after it. That’s how it works.
4561.
a teenager at 6:15 AM –
twelve identical versions of sullen
lined up in front of me
4562.
Pet him, sure, but there is always some danger
that the polite lion will forget his manners
at the sight of your plump juicy arms.
4563.
the stolen figurine
fainted from the stress of the abduction
fell to the floor and went to pieces
4564.
I don’t want him to worry
but as that piranha accelerates toward him…
well, at least he can stop fretting over retirement now
4565.
your arm.
the numbness expands.
the cat sleeps on in blissful peace.
you don’t move. he’s so cranky when his nap is disturbed.
4566.
my chair –
a nosedive into it –
and quick as a wink the cat is curled up and fast asleep.
4567.
The penciled-in answers to the puzzle
in this odd book you picked up at the nonsense bookshop
Is it me, or have they suddenly begun making sense?
4568.
a great big belly laugh:
the only comeback
I have for everything you say these days
4569.
an ancestor
untidies your memories of her
when you discover her hidden diaries. Whoo boy.
4570.
The troubled woman tastes the theological pie
teetering on top of the plate of advice –
the pastor steeples his fingers and yawns
4571.
when an accountant screams red ink
the blood of your dying business on his hands
the efficient garotte of bankruptcy waits outside
4572.
How can its garish colors soothe the reddened eyes?
How can the blowsy rose in the funeral wreath
mediate the strident hatefulness of chance?
Claudia McGill Writes Poetry, Did You Know That? 
I always enjoy the humour in the LVs but the piranha one made me laugh out loud. Maybe it is because I suspect I have a greater chance at being munched by a piranha than I do of retiring. #4565 is very relatable. #4557 makes me think of my Granddad who was swimming off Beirut once when he felt something rough and large brush against his legs. The second bump was accompanied by the tip of a fin. He said he learned he could swim much faster than he ever would have expected.