Read Lovely Books
Like a schoolboy who’s won the Golden Buzzer on Britain’s Got Talent, I’ve tried
And I’m walking into the arms of someone who makes me think of home
Namely, myself; not a glass of Zin, not a hunk of chocolate cake, and not a movie
I know the spot on the couch that is waiting, and I’ll be gone awhile
Is it inside the brain? Is it inside the heart? Or the will? Maybe it’s all
Or maybe the eternal “they” are imagining too much? That sounds good
Although I sleep from guilt about health issues, every night, this afternoon I will sleep the sleep
I cannot care, cannot think, cannot remember ever being a writer
Meanwhile, if you want, you could get a day off, too, I’d imagine