During our last move we made
sure to pack:
all the paraphernalia, both
toothbrushes, most of our clothes,
old pictures, broken ashtrays,
tools we didn't know how to use,
the computer, both cats, commitments,
all the shot glasses, a bed,
and your unsolved Rubix cube.
It all fit in the car.

We left behind the couch that
one of the cats ****** on,
the shower curtain liner, every
working Bic lighter, your sanity,
the Monopoly game, two new
pens, one old pen (no ink)
and a bag of marshmallows,
plus one hell of a mess.

During the move we misplaced
our sense of direction, a suitcase
full of only my clothes, logic,
and a globe that doubled as a
lamp.

***** given?
Zero.

We still had both cats.

I want to write poetry
But
What am I to write about?

I could tell you about
The horse I had at 3
That my parents sold at 4,

Or the Taco Bell up the street
That was closed
For selling drugs out the back window,

Or even the time
That my dad crushed an ant
Into our old cement patio
And tears sprang to my eyes because
I was sure that the ant had a family somewhere
Who would expect him home any minute.

But those aren’t very pleasant things
And I’m not able to make rhymes,

So I am forced to face the truth
That maybe
I am not a very pleasant person.

'I slept, and dreamed that life was beauty;
I woke, and found that life was duty.
Was thy dream then a shadowy lie?
Toil on, sad heart, courageously,
And thou shall find thy dream to be
A noonday light and truth to thee.'

I thank the sun and the stars every moment
for carrying me wistfully
from cradle to grave.

What couple danced to this records gay tune?
Who enjoyed this story long a go told?
Two things never stop giving pleasure, they never die
A well told tale, igniting our imagination.
A tune of beautiful composition, evoking emotion.