I kept hearing poetry today,
and like a true critic
I skimmed the cream off the milk
and saved the best bits for later,
dismissing the rest as trivial, general
life.
I edited, cut, nip-and-tuck jobs
to the words that I found on the road,
and the ones left lying under my chair
I straightened out, ironed
until they were good as new.
I took glue to my wanton collection,
pasted together each part of each story
and tried to make the edges fit.
I kept hearing poetry today,
and this is what I made of it:

it's not so bad out there today
sit down, girl, you're gonna fall
he's wrong again, i'm tired of this
i agree with you, go for it
sometimes it's good to talk about it
well, that's messed up
here, let me help you with that
you're beautiful
a compliment always does the trick
are you ready yet?
the day is finally over, thank god

That last one was me
as the door slammed shut
and the wild poetry was left outside
to consort with the wind
and bother somebody else.