Like you, like me

A one litre milk pack
Has a lot of potential
It can become slack
Or spill from overfill
Or curdle like gel
Or turn sour and smell
Or boil over and raise hell
But
More often than not
Within imposed societal limits
It sits pretty in the fridge
Till someone comes and drinks it

Hutch who?

Let it be known
I am not able to
Breathe in and out
Like I used to do
With such ease
That I never paid
Any attention to it
--

I curse this cold
A perpetual fiend
Who ran after me
With great speed
While I was busy
Escaping it
--

Only consolation is
When twenty one people
(No, I am not kidding)
Filter in the lift
That only fits one-fifth
And I am squeezed
To this cold metal wall
I loudly sneeze
It’s fun to see how
A potential cold
Horrifies one and all
--

Here’s a readymade joke
In case you aren’t
Already bored

Knock knock
Who’s there?
Hutch
Hutch who?
Bless you!