She’s a real creampuff,
purrs like a kitten,
only ever driven
on Sundays
to church
and around the block
for endless hours
of talk radio.
Pulls to the right?
Sure,
these days,
what doesn’t?
25/365
Poems to Save the World
A version of this poem first appeared on Bluesky. Whispered into the acoustic sensors of the sleeping dreaming android, it prompted the electric sheep to generate one more tomorrow…
