Monday, January 30, 2017


My soul having wandered off
I hired a temporary one
It came in for a few hours
Monday through Friday;
I expected grave
And thrilling consequences
Of being soulless,
If only nights and weekends,
And I'd lead a purple life,
Committing unspeakable crimes
But, alas, my crimes
Were small and drab
And entirely speakable.
When my soul came back
It straightened things out
In about three hours.
We drank wine that night
And agreed to go on
Just as we'd done before.

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