This poem is such fluff that it doesn’t even get asterisks.
the man in the Charlemagne suit
waves me over
leans down when I draw
near and whispers
Have you by any
chance a can opener handy?
Along with my apologies I offer the following explanation for today’s poem: I misread the title of Steve Berry’s The Charlemagne Pursuit in passing and couldn’t get the mistaken phrase out of my head until I wrote this. I suppose that makes it more of an exorcism, really.
The Daily Compost 