Seventeen syllables, No. 76

Please re-rack those clothes
After you tire yourself out
From lifting these weights.

Seventeen syllables, No. 35

The neon heart bounced
Off the screen--transplanted to
The anchorman's chest.

Seventeen syllables, No. 33

Lemon-lime soda
Stings my tongue. But moonlight-glazed
Clouds float silently.

Seventeen syllables, No. 18

Metal behemoths
Walk in place, subjugating
All those who mount them.