Gesundheit...

redolent children
painting burgers
on the tastee wall.
Send a greeting
to the chicken
in the pot down the hall.

Slumber comes and
bangs its head
on the wall of memory.
Finding ancient glory
in the stars that
dance around before it.

The phrase
'you're standing on my neck'
haunts my conscience
like a mischevious poltergeist
seeking validation
for its wit and humor.