some days the most i can accomplish is getting out of bed and making some peanut butter toast,
though just because i didn't build a rocket to mars,
or input data into a spreadsheet,
or keep my duolingo streak,
or sit on a golden toilet seat,
that doesn't mean the day was a bust,
since i at least wrote this dumb poem
that sounded a lot cooler in my head before i wrote it down
sideway glances made at the next table over,
i think they're a couple in the midst of discovering a new octave in human vocal patterns,
and i feel as if i should say something,
but i'm too embarrassed because i was alway taught to mind my manners
and my beeswax!
guy pours out a glass of water,
then goes outside for a walk with his suitcase,
looking for something to eat,
yet he is only met by a doubtful wind
that doesn't quite believe the guy knows what he's doing,
but the guy keeps looking,
placing little collectibles in his suitcase as he goes along,
until his suitcase is full and begins to hurt his shoulder,
so the guy has to--he must--let go
and head back home
Fred Aiken Writing 