Shakespeare had his molting geese
And Gutenberg his lumps of lead;
I have my laptop. When they cease
To function, words inside my head
Collide cacophonously. Peace
Will not return until they’re read
Though first they must be written. Fleece
Won’t warm you till the sheep’s been shed
Of wool; linguistic expertise
Won’t help if your computer’s dead.
I don’t adult because I can,
Because I’m grown, or I’m a man.
Adulting’s not the gerund to
Which I default to mess with you.
It’s not a prize like winning fish
By tossing dimes atop a dish,
But someone has to do it, so
I’ll just adult, and then I’ll go.
And listen: No one has to know.
Mass shootings happen all the time
Without a reason, but with rhyme:
For thoughts and prayers and guns, demand
Will spike, but changes won’t be planned.
Still, best be safe: Shore up your stock
Of weaponry in case the shock
Of this one causes such regret
That we’ll do what we haven’t yet,
By which I mean, a single thing…
I kid! We won’t. Let freedom ring.
The days are getting shorter
But don’t panic! It’s okay!
They’re also getting warmer
As the sunshine goes away.
The sun is overrated
We must logically conclude
(But we only whisper that at night
For fear of being rude).
Everything means everything
And nothing’s not a sign.
These portents are important for
Revealing the design.
As far as I can tell, we’re either
Bound for Hell or fine.
If it’s too late to change your fate
Then let’s all work on mine!
Do unto others
As you’d have them do to you
Even when they won’t
Raccoons do not exist, I know,
But how I wish that they were so.
To see the face behind the mask
Outside my dreams is all I ask.
The Easter Bunny I could skip
(Though Santa Claus would be a trip),
But burglar bearlets in the fur
For me would be what mermaids were
For frightened sailors: Fantasies
With thumbs and fancy tails. Oh, please,
Don’t mock me for the way I feel.
You’d love them, too, if they were real.