Rock with a Star on It
August 01, 2020
In assigning structure
Different narratives begin to reveal
Themselves
So don’t assign a structure
He doesn’t want prompts
Or to be talked about in the third-person
Only to admire the
Empty glass of water
To be refilled when the need becomes dire
Rank the works from worst
To best.
Maybe.
That’ll look strange on a screen
The washer’s open
Strike while the iron’s hot
Unload the traveled suitcase
Of well-worn garments,
Worn dirty at least a couple times over
You’ll be staying awhile
So commit?
Cover your legs with a thin
Blanket. Because you’ve recently
Ran out of acceptable pants.
Paul Simon seems to always be playing in here.
But so muffled and all
He wants is to be heard
Clear. How fun it would
Be to see the pencil shavings just go flying
Everywhere. That’d
Produce an uneasy smile
Because someone’d have to pick them up
And you’re naked
Because your clothes are washing
Remember. That’s that rock with the star on it. You can’t be bothered to help shovel
The blankets of snow but will enjoy the meatloaf.
Who is this for?
This dialogue.
No promises.