I am stealing these few moments
When the lights are out
And my family is asleep
Not because I have anything of importance to do with the time
But just because I want it.
I want to own it.
To add it to my Collection
Along with the books that crowd my bookshelves
Which wait in vain to be taken down and read -
The LPs
That rarely get their turn
on the turntable
To release the music hidden inside their shallow black grooves;
The plans I made when I was younger
That were going to make me famous.
Or rich.
Or both.
Only now do I realize that I have violated
The cardinal rule of all serious collectors and hoarders-
I allowed myself to use the time
To write this poem.
And now it is gone.