I’ve got a fever and the only thing that can cure it is . . . more haikus. All it took was that hit I took yesterday and now I’m hooked. Here’s today’s recipe for poetry greatness. Take the fact that Primo says crazy shit and add the fact that I can count seven syllables and you have . . . the What My Son Said Haiku Collection. I will time-release one or two a day. Consider it the equivalent of tantric sex (what my husband, who is not a big fan, likes to call "lazy, blueball sex").
No. 1
No more hand washing!
I have had enough of this
Dumb swine flu business.
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