An Ode to Odes

Oh you oft neglected form, you calm before the storm, you with your snowy eyes and your little round mouth, you who has traveled from north to south, oh you winged one, oh you chaired, oh you truth and oh you dare, oh you, oh you, oh little fish blue, how you swim and you swim and you swim fro and to, oh you kitten and oh you dog, oh you big mouthed horny frog, oh ink, oh lead, oh friends that are dead, oh lord, oh my, oh keep moving on, oh my bumble, oh my flea--to render, to rattle, to rivet and roll--oh my verb, oh my droll, oh sissy and jojo and mama and you, oh daddy and linda and davey too, oh boredom, oh thrills, oh rolling down hills , oh body, oh spirit, oh crazy old soul, oh waltzes and bellies and sweet pickled jellies, oh horrible poem, oh laughable procrastinator; I should have known, I was better as a waiter!

***This poem is not intended to be used as instruction on the ode form. It's pure intention was to keep the writer from doing the work she needs to be doing. Files sit unopened and neglected on her computer. She paces; she pees; she swats at the bees. Flash to the scene where she's working at Betty's Fish and Chips in Northern California; her pants are tight; her apron is fashioned to look like a giant french fry. Suddenly, a customer says something we can't hear (WE ONLY SEE HIS GAPING PIE HOLE, FLAPPING). She pours a pitcher (notably not blue) of iced tea over his head. Fade to darkness.***