The McNugget Epistle

I'm lovin' it.

Lovin' what?
Are you gettin' some lovin'?
Lovin' the abnormal english?
Lovin' the apostophe?
Lovin' the salad dressing?
Lovin' the fake multi-culturalism represtented by
eight
languages on the side of a five-piece chicken select box?

I would gladly hear your tale.

Wist

I had hoped.

It wasn't much and it wan't the same,
but it was there-
glimmering, budding, somehow springing up
during the
dead, cold wasteland
of winter.

It wasn't the old flower, and I was glad.

It was a dandilion, a weed of the soul-
Nay, a weed of the heart.

Just a weed.
No more,
No less.
Was it less?

And with but an exhale of regret
-mist clouding my vision-
I leaned down, eyes wide,
and plucked the weed.

I had hoped.
Was it less?