Friday, April 10, 2009

WE GET INTO A CAR ACCIDENT, I DON'T HAVE ANY INSURANCE, AND THE JUDGE MAKES ME BE YOUR BUTLER

You try coming out of the
Celtic twilight with pants
made from the felt of a pool
table - me, I'm just getting
a flashlight. I'll point it at
the sky and make my own
stars, my own moon and this
earth will turn around me
like I always suspected it
was meant to. You still have
a dream? That's a good one.
Me, I'm all dreamed out after
finally seeing real in a grainy
mirror. Real doesn't blink.

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2 Comments:

Blogger cedric said...

I recently came across your blog and have been reading along. I thought I would leave my first comment. I don't know what to say except that I have enjoyed reading. Nice blog. I will keep visiting this blog very often.


Ruth

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12:18 AM  
Anonymous Corey said...

You should get paid to write poem titles. They're always my favorite part.

6:47 PM  

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