Something Bad's Gonna Happen Poem by Barry A. Lanier

Something Bad's Gonna Happen



After a night of tequila, and a 24 hour virus,
The next morning, no toilet paper in the house.
Struggling to the mailbox, a letter from my banker,
Why don't you come in and see me this week.
Expectation of the warmth and love of my morning coffee,
Then the sugar was out and the milk soured.
Finally dressed walking out with my socks on backwards,
A note on the table from my wife, sealed with a heart.

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