This was written while the BP oil well was pumping tons of oil into the Gulf of Mexico, and everyone was yelling about how terrible it is that oil companies are polluting the world. I walked by a line of cars waiting to board the ferry … waiting and running.
We all are guilty.

Oil-sucking cars wait/
in line. Polluting motors/
run while the Gulf weeps.

OR
Oil-sucking cars wait/
in line, stopped, their polluting/
motors still running.

.
Summertime sometimes sucks./
Scrumptuous strawberry shortcake,/
sans someone sharing!

Ripped woman so tall,/
do you play beach volleyball?/
I like to spike. You?

Years past/
since I last/
gazed at a full moon/
with someone./

But soon,/
I hope, it will be fun/
once more./
Not a chore/
but a treasure/
2 moonwatch apart,/
2gether.

It feels strange/
to meet/
someone off the street/
and have everything rearranged/
and potentially changed./

Not a lonely/
someone./
Just someone alone./
Like me.

Moratorium/
on romance leaves little /
to chance, so don’t try.

In response to a playful “diss” comment about my Mist Kiss poem (posted yesterday), where a friend said “I would be flogged for a line like “aren’t you my lips missing” by my songwriting coach… but maybe the rules are different in poetry,” I wrote this email limerick:
I talked about kissing/
the lips I was missing,/
but it’s even more wrong/
to paraphrase a Beatles’ song!/
(In response to your dissing.)

Does Nutella/
on a tortilla/
count as mole’?/

A warm chocolate taste,/
so smooth, sweet and great,/
makes me shout “Ole!”/

At last!/
Breakfast/
better than any latte!

“What sun?” she smiles, asks,/
not knowing her face shines bright/
when she awakens.