remaining.

i wish i could have an epiphany.

HARK! i burnt my muffins today.
this isn’t even a metaphor, mr. musselman,
so you don’t even need to try analyzing it
as a class when we read this.
ok? ok.
but verily so, i was angry,
but seeing as though i’d had a wonderful day,
this didn’t detract from jumping into
a lake full of zombies and harmonicas.
i had a dream where a friend died tragically
[honestly, the disease ate him away!]
but in the end, it was all irony, anyway.
there is a trend going on around here
and i believe that if i take a whiff with
lennon sized nostrils, i can smell it.
if we cover it with deodorant, though,
then it is exactly that,
a stolen pair
of ideas.

“I CAN’T DIE WHEN I DIE!” screams The Goat
as the MIB [some were in white, though]
put the needle to his neck.
but, everyone knew that he’d come back,
because that’s what the villagers are praying on.
sometimes it’s hard to be a deity, thinks The Goat,
because you can never grant everyone’s wishes.
but he was right, of course. he closes his furry eyelids,
his entire, short-lived life flashes in front of his
subtract-symbol pupils.
The Goat realizes he will ascend,
stop,
descend,
and remain.
he smiles his Goat smile.
the villagers wilt.
in the end, The Goat dies.
the thought of bus-stops, broadway and
goggles are enough to…….
but, perhaps it’s one of those k-hole kinds of things.
i’d cry, but then i’d be foolish. i’ll try smiling.
The Goat will meet with the kemps cow.
a rainbow will mold them together, and maybe,
just maybe, the future and the past will be friends.
and the thought of winter scares me.
of course it isn’t the cold! how could you,
the reader,
be that.....
‘duh.’
but maybe becoming so self-aware builds for a
better tomorrow and a better you.
this way, every day, you have something a year ago
that you can relate to that day.
and of course people naturally pine for the past.
“yes. uh, two scoops, please. yes, that’s it.”
[“i love you. if you hold me accountable for the choices you make, you’ll never be happy in life.”]
maybe that’s the key.
or maybe, babbling idiots come in 48 different flavors.