The path to my couch,
Is vacuumed twice a week,
To cover my tracks,
So that no one can come behind,
And figure how much time I’ve
Wasted, just waiting, wondering,
What to do.
The path to stove top,
Is mopped once a week,
If not more, to hide the messes
I’ve made trying to cook up
Something new.
The path to my fridge,
Is swept on the hour,
To make sure no one knows,
How many beers I pull out,
And pop open, to properly
Get numb enough,
To erase all traces and sit back down,
Safely considering my next,
Utterly erasable move.
My bedside however,
Is litter with skeletons, monkeys,
Candy wrappers, and emotional garbage,
Stained, and the path their poured
Concrete.
I just got too tired to cover it up any more.
And went to bed.
At least I set the alarm
Some random Haiku:
Deposit the check,
I don’t deal with check too much.
The teller agrees…
I wore my slippers,
To the store, then took them off
At home…house slippers.
I want to start an
All natural ice food cart,
Only open in Winter.
Cheers, Next Post will be end of the year lists probably.
Bob Fantastic
