Thursday, Aisle five, ten past four.

[Jerrybaldy]

Have a nice day
nice to see you again,
call me,
how are you?
Remember me to him,
lol.
It looks like rain,
it seems like yesterday,
put the kettle on,
we must call round,
you haven't aged.

It's a supermarket aisle,
the cereal section,
shove our small talk
up our cancerous
a ssholes,
the special K
is half price
and I am parked
in disabled.

[Delta40]

Everything you write has its own distinct flavour.

[deryk]

This poem emanates a sort of a feeling of disparagement. It's thicker than gravy, in fact. I can always do without the "lol", but I see the point you're making. What's interesting is that the parts of this poem that I thought were the worser parts, sort of seem to be self-aware. I think I might take that effect to heart. I'll get around to identifying it eventually.