Eighty-Seventh Entry

My mom thought it would be a good idea if I mentioned on my blog that I was unemployed, and that if anyone out there has a job for this young man they should let me know. I can be trusted with all manner of work.

Going home to Texas in a week or so, can't wait.

Played KICKBALL this weekend!

Here's my poem:

WORDS TRAPPED IN A SKULL

I made a deck-chair out of you.
Every Monday, I hear you squeak
as you begin your breakfast routine,
bacon, sausage, steak, chicken, squid,
vulture, tuna, duck, turkey, buffalo,
camel, as I trot to work I can hear
the grate close on the sewer
and I know you have arrived safely
and I begin to worry about myself.

Then again, at night, when the children
chase me around, I light a fire under
myself and I do that little dance.

I sit in you. You are my solid
accomplishment, and I can see you
from here, inside my bedroom.
Who is in my bedroom?
You mean, besides me? It's
about time you leave me alone now,
in case someone you don't know
is coming by. Someone you don't
recognize at the door, with some
present for you, and when you sign
your name, it looks back at you
as a signifier of who you are,
which is how you know who you are,
by what's written on the slip, and then,
by what's inside the box.