Electric sunlight bounces off
The small portions of visible window
Distracting the eye from
The dim November sky.
I can only see in small
Patches through the bare arms
Of the oak trees.

If ever we fought the
Battle for conjugations
I always wore my galoshes.

The scent of concentrated ink
In more colors than a rainbow
Wafts through the air
Tickling the tip of my nose.

Four shots of espresso and
One Jurassic Park t-shirt later
And I'm still eating
A grammar based pizza,
Having drunk too many vapors
From the blue and green letters
To comprehend the simple aspect
Of eating boiled spinach
And broiled liver.

Only the good die young
In a substantive use of an
Attributed participle.