Fridge Noir

These are the first few lines of a hard-boiled detective story I wrote in magnets yesterday. The poem goes on to be 68 lines and more convoluted than it probably had to be. But somehow it holds together and I like it. It was there on my refrigerator waiting to great me as I came home today.

I spent the day at a family friend's house, working. I dug holes. I planted a tree. I tilled earth. I built walkways. I assembled fountain and repaired another. I battled the wind. I made something out of little. I thought things out and built them up. I worked. And it was great. There's nothing like an honest day's work.

After a day of hard work on almost no sleep, I actually have a little hope I might find a few hours' rest tonight.