A Boring Day in ‘H’

’H’ is a nearby town.
No one even says H-town. They just say ‘H’.
Porches and Lamborghinis paw through town.
Everybody wears running shoes.
I can feel the cool of the lake.
I’m drinking some Jamaican coffee but its a little dull.
There is an ‘art’ show here —
Had I known I wouldn’t have come.
The sun is baking the booth carnies into some kind of wavelength.
Pinky is 300 miles away. I miss Pinky.

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