For the next few days don't expect to read anything but me hitting the writing gym for short brief spurts. I have no intention of any type of good poetry coming out of this. I am moving into my. own. home!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Bump
like when the car hits a pothole
you don't slow down, you just think,
"Crap! Fix the road!"
like when you put on new heels
and a pretty dress and more make up
and perfume than you've worn in a year
then you trip and slightly sprain your ankle
you just keep strutting and look to see who saw
like the bank account going negative
for twelve hours because the next day
is payday, you eat at home
and wake up rich and full again
that kind of bump
bad shocks
but the steady revolving axis
of life keeping you propelled
towards the future
a clumsy race of almost there
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