Sputterpub's Blog

Perhaps it’s that I’m used to flights alone,
or maybe I’ve not noted how annoyed
I’ve been by geriatric hum and groan,
but seldom have I separateness enjoyed
as much as now: a flit to Germany,
my eyes on words, three glasses now deployed
in near two hours, solitarily.

Does everyone annoy me? That’s not good…
Concluding that it really may be me
instead of others, thinking that I should
assess my inmost personality,
and list the ways I irk my neighborhood,
I plan to set that challenge presently.
But first I’ll shun complaints and false flamboyance,
to revel in more intimate annoyance.

She leaves each shower condiment ajar.
That risks a spill at sea or may dilute
the contents, but I’m opting not to spar.
What good would reformation constitute?
Reminding her to flush would not go far.
Requesting no increase in heat? I’m mute.
It isn’t that I’m shy. There’d be no gain.
I simply jot to ventilate disdain.

The weather has been cooler than expected.
The menu is a challenge to resist.
Some flaws in the companion are detected,
and naturally some hominess is missed.
But nothing fundamental’s in a twist:
I have no pains; I’m sleeping well enough.
I feel a little growth, away from list
and habit, unaccompanied by stuff.