Take out your barbeque
roast your unaccomplished dreams
along with onions and cheese.

cook until they are burnt.
collect the ashes of your dreams
and sprinkle it on plate of regret
and ate everything on it like a good boy

digest the fact, that
what was meant to be, happened
and what's wasn't, will be out of
the system in morning.

*Burps

The tiles stay the same
A grid to measure how little was done
The traffic of routine
Allows at least a little
Fading in the grout
Still there are tiles
Untouched in the small spaces of habit
How can there be
So much unexplored
In a schedule unchanged
For thirty years