PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I wish I could tell you of

days sewn together
with feathered threads of

apathy and demise
but no, not tonight.
Instead,four minutes…

7:14pm all the world is

locked away in warm cubby holes,

peering through peep holes

at those hallway views, curved walls,
delivery boys with

headline hands and resinated eyes
waiting patiently

on indoor-outdoor carpet.

7:16pm I’ve meshed

with the hardwood floors again.
Curled up on the couch to

watch people walking
from one corner to the next

unaware that all
the streets they’re traveling

end where they
start in one way or another.

7:18pm That blue smoke keeps

unfolding from crowded ashtray
in this otherwise empty apartment…

there’s something
to be said about being here

but for the life of me
 I can’t remember what it is.

For the time being

America wipes down it’s toilet seats
while the sons of such

are more than likely tucked away
safely in their beds

and cleansing themselves

of semen with dirty towels.

Ray Strickland jr. 2002