Just twenty klicks on Friday after work, <br />the stubby shorts, my T-shirt of Desire, <br />I need the exercise to stay within some reason <br />we now have summer here, the temperature is up. <br /> <br />And in between I had, while no one looked and snooped, <br />created one more poem for the week to post, <br />I'd do the typing with my usual two fingers, <br />and watch the ratings of the trolls for entertainment. <br /> <br />There was the news to watch at first when I got home <br />the Yanks were killing one good woman who was down, <br />then dinner beckoned and was bloodwurst with Dijon, <br />until at last I sat in my most worn out chair. <br /> <br />'Oh, dear, did you by any chance tonight, <br />with usual and disturbing speed grab my blue shorts? ' <br />'I washed them quickly, ' came the answer from the spouse, <br />'the shortest load so you can wear them early morning.' <br /> <br />Thus I found out to my considered 'Au Chagrin', <br />that even short loads eat all words that I create <br />the world will never know the meaning of this classic, <br />but I assure you that the rating would be twenty.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-short-load/
