I’ll tell you how this poem ends.
It’s with a hard knock and
a whole lot of painful questions.
Who? What? Where? When? Why?
But no how?

That’s a secret.

This poem ends with like taking advantage
of you,
then leaving while you’re still asleep.

It never really goes anywhere.
Sizzle Sizzle Pop Smack.
Just like that,
this poem flashes before your eyes.
Blaine would be proud.

I never read poems til the
bitter end.

No, I skip ahead,
even in my own poetry.
First sentence
to
the last word.

What does that say about me?
Like I said,
more questions.

Impulsive?
Maybe.

Let’s end it here.
Would that be the cowardly thing to do?
Or would it put this poem out of its misery?
It is starting to drag its feet.

I believe it is time.
Fingers crossed,
behind the back.

Click Click Bang Bang.

Don’t you hate it when poems drag on,
word after
word after
word.

Finished.