In the early May twilight,
cavalcades of pretentious dewdrops motor up the driveway in noisy antique cars.
A crew of metrosexual crickets stride in on haunches-of-steel,
mumbling into headsets,
escorting the watery celebrities onto the porch.
Light flashes through the trees,
the characters strike a pose.
More relentless Paparazzi Sunlight hammers through the crowd--
My name is Nasreen. I write micro essays, one-liners, and other small things. Most of them were funny at some point, at least to me.