Call this era the New Somberness.
Call it Ghastly Lighting.
Call this era There’s an Antique
Mall In My Heart.
When I was more certain,
I was more
of an ass, true. But
I didn’t ask permission to hunker
down under a day (pleeease)
the size and usefulness
of a white elephant.
Oh honey please! I must
go more bravely. This
crouching doesn’t count.
As if I am made with a glass handle
And all the world wants to lift my lid.
Call this era Liberating My Idiom.
Call it Nothing. Not even hunger.
I have been a traveling salesman afraid
to look in my own suitcase!
I have had the best things happen to me!
There is something left to be desired!
Oh, honey, what an ass.
Call this era Ode to Scissors.
Call it Learn to Make My Own Fun.
I keep a box of broken habits under my bed
for sentimental reasons. Call it Mustering
the Courage to Set the Box on Fire.