In which Your Humble Blogger gets snarky about humanity and ice cream:
I hate people for who they are
and love people for who they could be.
Someone told me that I got
half of that equation
but wouldn't tell me which half.
So I solved the problem
I hate her for who she is, too,
and am now enjoying
bucket of ice cream
* * *
Just something to keep me amused; this didn't happen. Well, not really. If anything, I might -- might -- have had a thought like the one that begins the poem and then reprimanded myself for feeling that way. And I might -- might -- have imagined that situation as a discussion between two people, to allow me to make fun of myself. Crazy? Misanthropic? Possibly.
But man, I do love me some ice cream.