A Poetic Retelling (Very Unfortunate)

This is a poetic retelling of an athletic Event (a race) That breathtaking Nerve racking Repetition On a circle (tiring) I don’t dream of things like this Unless I’m an insomniac I don’t deny that’s what I want (because) it’s wretched I don’t deny what’s dirty (just) Because it contains dirt Which, in a bucket, silently sits For a tornado to topple No, (I) don’t silently sit—ever, Well, anymore, anyway. - This is a poetic retelling Of an unfortunate (a political) Event. I remember when the numbers at the gas station were closer Together. Mom says they used to coincide. Dad thinks the higher one Used to be the lower one At a time This is a poetic retelling, Very unfortunate. - This is a poetic retelling of a Glorious (a daydream) Discovery—very secretive I was walking along the beach When I thought of you I was walking along the beach Until I found a shell— One that made me think of you; It was one I knew you’d like but I had to get off that beach! God knows what the surfers do when the tide comes in at midnight God knows what the lifeguards do-- and forgets, so I come home to you my seashell girl sick in bed again to tell you stories (very unfortunate) about the beach about seashells and about life the one you can't seem to really live-- you don't feel like listening to; again. so it's like i'm telling stories to myself and it's like I'm slowing down this train when all I want is to reach this destination-- as quickly as possible.