Harum Scarum

I hit the driveway and the driveway hit back,
Slapping my head with a sickening whack,
Which is why I look like a circus clown now,
With a purple face and a knot on my brow
       (Couldn't this be made into a country western song?)
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What started me on poetics, you ask--
Well, I learned it at my mother's knee,
From nursery rhymes and little songs
That she would read and sing to me
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That yellow tablet Fiorella took about an hour looking for yesterday, the one she had all her plans and self-assignments recorded on, the one she thought was gone forever--when she pulled her PC out from under the couch, the tablet came out with it. THANK YOU, GOD!
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Tuesday (martes) went all too quickly and Fio didn't have time to get her mailers to the post office or stop by Michael's to buy more blanks for her DUMP TRUMP buttons, which seem to have taken off.  She did however, stop by Walgreens for Tylenol, Halloween candy, and--er, uh--a Dove Bar.
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On a whim, Fiorella looked up the word for Wednesday in all the languages (except Hindi and Sanskrit) that she has studied: Russian is creda, German is Mittwoch, French is Mercredi, and Teleugu is budhavaram. If only she knew them off the top of her head--sigh.