Space

I thought I'd write a poem today,
but then... you wrote one, anyway
and took up quite a lot of space
that left me just an inch, in place.

Oh well, I pushed your words about
and although pushing made you shout,
I squeezed my words inside the square
and heard you screaming everywhere!

Listen, Bozo, FAIR IS FAIR!
And anyway, I hate your hair.

and your finger

that is pointing at me

and your teeth

and your pink socks.