Getting Along and Bucking Up

Getting Along and Bucking Up

When I’m nude and it’s noonish,
I intentionally drool on myself;
the slobber gets me out of bed
because it’s so gross.

When I throw something away
that ought to be recycled, I mutter,
“Take that, Mother Earth.”

The ladies from church wonder
how I look at myself in the mirror.

It's easy. I throw back my shoulders,
raise my eyebrows, smile, and say,
“at least you're not a Nazi.”