No Problem Is a Problem For Me

Summersaulting on the clouds of time Makes me thirsty for yesterday’s old ones They were the best; their laps were soft. Kindness was their middle name. Their first name polite. No one said, “no problem”. They said, “You are welcome”. “No problem” to me means “you are not really welcome”. My mind growls and snarls every time I hear it. Curtseys are weird, and never looked right. I do not go in for genuflecting either. Because I am not of that religious persuasion. Then of course I might flex. I am doing cartwheels now, reaching my toes toward Jupiter Showing the gods and goddesses I am limber enough to show them up They scoff at my antics, sneering at my enthusiasm. I care not, for I am in my own world Still steaming over “no problem” which I guess is one.