Baby’s screaming
past crepes completed.
She must have had
the chipolte pain.

Why don’t her parents
take her out?
There is a hot blonde
with her thigh
against mine,
and hearing a baby’s
gurgle
does not give me
the effect
I was looking for.

Yes, Mom.
She’s going to keep screaming
even though you
keep singing
to her
off-key
about some dumb rabbit.

The rabbit died.
Seriously.
Oh, no… please tell me
I don’t have to sing
“POPCORN POPPING”
to keep her quiet!
But… it worked.
And it’s not even open mic night.

Morbidly obease, /
I recline in my chair and/
dream of steakbite death.

My friend’s granddaughter’s /
hair grows back as my heart breaks./
I am the lucky one.

Even blonde stars hurt,/
sometimes. Oh, wait. REM/
already said that.

Sitting at the scene/
of one of the greatest meals/
ever, maybe it’s time.

I’m goo’d. She doesn’t/
know. Her trip photos show her/
love as a Grandma.

I’m posing in sweats/
near a PT Cruiser. Will/
that catch her int’rest?

I’d send you photos/
of me smiling, but truth is,/
I’m in bed, dying.

Aloha! I’m bummed/
I wasn’t the one chosen/
to escape frozen.

New poets lack the confidence
that comes from experience.
When you first start
everything makes you wince.
but when you practice getting it out there,
you find you just don’t care
as much.
You’re just glad you can touch
your creative core,
because it lets you share more.