You will never
know how I held
back sharp words
behind a caged mouth,
when you asked
me of my day.

I wanted to cut off
your golden hair
and wear it as
a mustache,
because you
forgot to take
out the **** trash.

I had my lighter
right around
my neck,
and knew
how to
spark it,

but knew
that one
spark
of anger
would
destroy
our million
pieces of
shared joy.

And so I
refrained,
and thought maybe
I had completed
an important
life lesson.

Maybe somehwere up
in the heavens
God and Jesus
were cajoling
over wine
of my decision,

The little cherub
angels were
sounding their
trumpets
preparing for
my arrival
one day,

and sharpeining
their wings
to inevitably
carry me back
to my improved
return as
some great
historical
figure or
rare bird,
to reward
my refrain,
to reward
my refrain.