nothing to do so I ate a hummingbird
and sent books to Surface Noise in Louisville.
let me tell ya, it is weird to fill out that envelope,
knowing my books will be in your old backyard.
maybe one day, you will be at that record store
when you're home visiting Dale and Pat
and you'll find my book buried on the shelf.
how about a sit-on-the-couch-and-watch-
distracted and enjoying the doldrums for once in life,
this is where I create best, until I accidentally cut my middle finger
and bleed all over the gray suede aforementioned couch,
the one that keeps my caboose cozy and my shoulder broken.
sure, I wish I had a girl to take my mind off the world,
but I am doing okay and each day I think of you less.
boredom is underrated.
my belly hurts from too much ham,
so I take a Tums and take a shower,
thinking that if I slipped and cracked my head open,
or if my appendix burst no one would know,
and I would probably die naked in a shower
that I keep meaning to clean.