Spell check is not your friend.
It titters on high heels like some pre Madonna
and belittles your best hammy downs.
It insists it is not disgusting you
while picking at sores from Ancient Orange.
It will praise your half fast attempts
as it glibly promises the Pullet’s Surprise.
No, spell check is not your friend –
far from the contrary.
It tells you defiantly not to worry even when
impersonated in a consecration camp.
The best it can do is help
ream you out with mental floss
as you whine down from a stressful day.