Tonight's Poet Corner: Sonnet Solstice #53

A Whiskey Popsicle
by Belinda Roddie

A whiskey popsicle awaited me
in the freezer once I returned from work.
I licked the stick clean while watching TV
as my oldest brother, the big old jerk,
carried four tablets of ibuprofen
in his hand, a roll of toilet paper
under his arm, and a small just-for-rent
CD player into the room. I stirred
from my re-runs of Seinfeld just to give
him the middle finger for no reason.
He did not notice it for once in his
life, disappearing into the kitchen.
I licked another whiskey popsicle
and wondered how our lives would be less dull.

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