Salad Dressing Everywhere.

That should be the name of my book.  What book?  My book of poetry.  Great - let's write a poem.

Made my lunch and I felt perfect.
I got to work and there was salad dressing everywhere.
I cleaned it up and shopped for boots.
I didn't buy boots but I did fall apart.
Why do I hate all my old friends?
Why do I hate someone for posting 75 times a day on Facebook?
Why do I hate - why do I hate salad dressing?
I used to have a roommate that smelled like salad dressing
she had herpes
that didn't have anything to do with the salad dressing smell
she just liked to cover herself with olive oil
I'm uncomfortable and now I am wearing salad dressing
But it was a mistake.
I feel like I'm floating on my back in the ocean only - I'm at work.
Why am I sad?
I'm so worried about my job
I dropped the ball - I dropped the beach ball at my job and now I feel like I'm on a sad empty beach alone.
The bus out side says "Def Only" on it.
That probably doesn't mean what I think it does.
Oh poetry - you are so loose.
Just like my vagina used to be.
Only now I'm sober and my vagina is closed.  Just like the salad dressing container SHOULD
have been.  BYE.