This week’s Little Vines.

4939.
A stick of gum.
The boss wants to see you.
Make your choice.

4940.
The fresh strawberries gambol in the bowl until
quickly pureed and –
Well, I guess that’s the end of that story.

4941.
the baby slobbers
demurely aloof
she parts her lips in a half-smile
revealing two perfect teeth

4942.
The ripe onion hesitates
Reconsiders its plans and rearranges
Goes wild not mild. A meek salad roars.

4943.
You did a great job with the dagger today
the more vigorous technique you used this time
Really effective. Boy could those wedding guests scream.

4944.
the grazing cow
falling asleep
in the middle of the somnolent afternoon

4945.
Who would wait here in all this rain
besides a marigold
doing its best to substitute for the sun?

4946.
The martyrs moan the horseflies gawk
the priestess sneezes the sky darkens
a cloud of odd appearance covers the sun.
An omen, yes, but of what meaning?

4947.
implausible actions and unexpected plot twists
the wedding guests began to understand
what roles they were being expected to play
in this final chapter of romance novel gone ultra-bad

4948.
pull on that string
reel in the asteroid
sew it to a cloud
watch it sparkle in the night sky

4949.
the real true definitive annoyed
is the annoyed I feel
when I run out of yarn two rows from the end

4950.
Threads strung side to side
across the ceiling of the planet
a fresh blooming net in orchid and pink and
the seamstress smiles. The work is done for today.

4951.
I seek refuge inside this one small particle
of patience that you still possess
regarding me, hoping I can squeeze myself in

4952.
The ferryboat slid me across the river and I was gone.
I cannot come back from the dead.
I am sorry. I will wait for you on the far shore.

4953.
start up and shut down –
no matter how we try to embellish it
that’s what the arc of a life really is.

4954.
jouncing through the merry-go-round circle
the good father holds his queasy stomach together
steadies toddler daughter kicking her horse
and her father in the ribs. Faster, she shouts.

4955.
We schedule the shapeless We inspect the flawed
We sprinkle sugar We catch more than flies
Sit down. Your turn will come soon.

4956.
in the desolation you pray anyway
gloomy and without much hope
you dig in the soil and there you find it
in seeds that sprout and small green shoots that grow

4957.
specializing in a system
utilizing a certain exotic primness
if we try to argue with her
she bites our heads off after she freezes them

4958.
It’s five days
since you’ve been gone. I miss you so.
The very taste of the air has soured.

4959.
office gossip
the sugar on the dark hours of work
For some people, anyway. I don’t care for it.

4960.
scattered the bones in the cave
sank the boat in the lagoon
a true home now. we will never leave.