I wrote a poem at work the other day:
Sitting in my Cadillac,
Staring at the Sun,
Oh! my poor old retinas
Have never had such fun.
Exhaust fell off at Reno
Lost a cylinder as well -
Now I'm running loud and bogging
And something inside smells.
Perhaps I dropped some jerky
In between the seats,
Or the man I gave a lift
Left something bad for me.
Now I'm sort of wondering
If I'll find a place to stay
But also sort of not because
The sky is better anyway.
The galaxy transmits across
When I look up at night,
But its tongue is foreign,
And drowned out by lights.
I need a place,
To find a place,
Away from things that shine,
So that I may hear the heavens,
And know what's on their mind.
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blastradys) wrote,
