The human condition.

When I was happier, I used to write about our foibles in short poems.

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Ah, the fascinating human condition. It's a never-ending source of amusement for me. I'd love to hear some of your short poems about our foibles! Feel free to share one with me.

I'm not fast using tech & I got a 10 minute call in between, but here's one & if you'll indulge me I'll find a couple of more...uh...can I link a URL? If not, I'll copy & paste.

Copied and pasted:

A Slap of the Windmill

Hanging above my bed's headboard is a reproduction of Pablo Picasso's Don Quixote. As moonlight comes through my window, I kiss a man who is not my husband. A romance novel lands with a thud and the dog's ears perk up – just for the moment.

drifting off

the humidifier

runs out of steam

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