I knocked my mug on accident, now the napkin is coffeebrown and wetweak. Sigh. The usual horrors. Sick of lily pads, I struck out west, interned in a record studio in the Midwest. Cute lessons from middling men. Bah! I ran errands, but I leapt for no one. Not anymore. Engineered some local heroes’ EPs, nobody that went big. Who wants to go big? I’ve been there. Yes, can I get an espresso and an extra napkin? Don’t say the word, the -ash word. That slap eugh of sound I hate it and won’t hear it again. Mmm? Oh, yeah, I loved Arnold Lobel, yeah. Yes, of course it’s a love story. Thanks. This spoon is cute. One day, I’ll make a pact with you, Basho. We’ll come to terms. But right now I am in the shadow of something new before me, and trying to sun on its stomach.
there is no frog
in this haiku
ribbit
Seth Copeland owes frogs for not trusting them when they were little.