I will sometimes misspell words to see if my subconscious is paying attention,
though it usually lags, significantly,
until the third or fourth read-through,
at which point it’s too late, I can’t take it back, whatever it was that I said or wrote,
I have to live with the fact that my inner editorial spirit hates me and wants to see me fail,
or at least it’s getting back at me for not feeding it enough Goldfish growing up
I use reusable grocery bags because I love the environment and have decided I’m a patriot,
and because someone told me something about the dolphins that I promptly forgot,
but thought it would be a good idea to be seen as a great guy in the scheme of things,
though I couldn’t honestly say what I was scheming for,
because I don’t think I’d care one way or another if London Bridge tumbles and we all fall down,
in fact, I sometimes think I root for calamity,
unless it involves me participating in a revolution, because I’m gonna be honest with you,
it kinda takes a lot of energy reusing the same grocery bags over and over,
so I don’t think I have it in me to join whatever movement you’re pushing buddy,
maybe it’s time to move along
if I ever make it big,
then I want to lose it all in some back alley shady joint
where everyone hopes I fail
and it comes true,
leaving penniless and probably not all that much wiser,
though maybe I can go into lecturing the youth of tomorrow
about subjects that I have a faint understanding of
and should probably never be listened to,
because I barely know how to learn,
but I know how to lose
Fred Aiken Writing 