Pin Factory
Last week I got off my pins,
had a pedicure, a massage.
You know what pins are for.
So, let us line up, prep,
take stations to divide the labor.
Production has begun its practice.
One to unroll
One to straighten
One to cut
One to point
One to grind the head
and so on.
Yawn.
A perfect dream in the economy
of my head, I lift my toes,
neither Italian or Rose;
I blush and pinkly stand.
That is me in his visible hand.
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Good poem.
I liked the way the pedicure
is so precise.
(Funny, I also had a massage
to end the month)