Poem of the Week

Sorry, Sirs and Madams, I forgot to clean up after myself

after the unfortunate incidents of the previous century.

How embarrassing; my apologies. I wouldn't advise you

to stroll around here without safety goggles, and I must insist

that you enter at your own risk. You may, however, leave
your umbrella at the door. Just keep your ticket.

We expected, of course, to have this all cleared away by the time

you arrived. The goal was to present you

with blue and green screens, whitewashed counters.

Unforeseen expenses.
Red tape.
So hard to find good help these days.

But, alas, excuses. Perhaps you will appreciate

the difficulties I've faced in providing you a clean slate.
If you step into a hole, Sirs and Madams, accept the loss

of a shoe or two. Stay the course.

Progress is the mother of invention. Here: take my hand.
Yes, that's right. You can return it on the way back.