Triple Digits

I placed a bet earlier on

In the spirit of the spring that

I, or should I say, you

Would still be here - not moving

Staying as stale as a couch dorito.

And to think that

I placed this bounty on your head

While you sat still and slowly spun in reverse

Then raised the stakes

One hundred stacks.

To the last verse in the old King James;

You really made your mother proud.

You took the hammer and made two.

You stole the sunshine in hopes of a better view

Of your "holier" nightmares.

You made the one drop lock up so tight

That not a n'er not a sheep could slip through.

You wore that sweater that stole at least

One hundred hearts

Right out of the chests of the sunken treasure

That I fought so hard for,

But they were all for you.

I bet you never guessed that

You were always right when

You never guessed and I bet

You never guessed that

You should have guessed wrong

This time.

I was the one that dropped the screwdriver in your mind.

I never stopped to visit, I just didn't get the time.

I used to always cut the cactus off just a little too soon.

I remember I once left the moon in a hopeful wish that

I could go home too.

I guess I guessed a mess of a mess

Thus ends this insanity, thus ends this madness.

Request permission to use this poem