A Funeral For Unsweet Tea
The voice of a moth was all to come out
when I meant to to say I hate this life.
I meant to scream it with all the genetic coding
that allows such well developed emotions,
but what really happened in the time span of
those few seconds was a desperate little whimper
only the caged schnauzer
in a car at Wal-Mart could hear.
The poor little beast looked at me
knowing what I really meant
as I dropped my bottles of unsweet tea,
glass, liquid, pavement, all meshing around my feet
as I sighed at where my life had led me.
Cursing my way to the Honda I call home,
I saw the schnauzer call me a little priss
as he strained to reach the insufficient crack in the window.
While seeing his eyes close for the last time and
his bowels releasing themselves in his final act of defiance,
I wondered who the hell was I to complain.
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