pink stinks

Here’s my draft for Saturday 04.20.19.

pink stinks

they said the moon would be pink tonight

it isn’t pink at all

instead it just looks kind of low, and big
like a harvest moon, really
pulsing a warm yellow golden glow

the moon’s blood pressure must be up, though
wanting to eat the eyes of lying labelers
brooding on being falsely characterized
unbelievably shrill-voiced in its silent anger
unheard enraged curses at such misrepresentation

how would you like to be called pink

man, those moon four-letter words
how they hang rudely quiet in the air
not strong enough to kill immediately, perhaps
but maybe a year from now
since revenge is best served cold
you pinkmeisters might choke to death
on a chunk of cheddar cheese

so never tell falsehoods about the moon
you pink fleshy name-callers

beware the un-pink one
contemplating your fate while you sleep, vulnerable
wishing it could crush you
hating your slanderous lies all watchful night long

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