#Micropoetry Monday: The Lighter Side

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Midnight & Noon,
being fraternal twins—
one ushering in the lunch hour,
the other,
the bewitching hour—
fought over who was 1200,
& who was 2400.
Five O’Clock always felt he had to be somewhere,
but that mysterious Eleventh Hour—
a lady on the go or a man on the run—
was always in a rush.

Venus’s marriage to Mars was rocky,
for he was gassy,
&, according to him,
she was icy,
but remembering little associations
like these
helped her pass Astronomy class,
sliding into the seventieth percentile
with the knowledge
that the Sun was really big & hot
& Neptune was really far & cold.
Such a course of study changed her lexicon,
for when she gave birth to Halley,
she said it was like passing
a bowling ball the size of Jupiter.

Optimism & Pessimism walked into a bar,
where they came across Realism,
looking fine as dandelion wine.
They each brought her a drink—
Optimism’s glass being half-full,
Pessimism’s being half-empty.
Killing these 2 strange birds
with one shot,
she got what she wanted,
while leaving them wanting more.
Such was genuine Realism.

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