Sleeping S

Um, so, last year there was a hurricane at the beginning of the year and I stayed in an apartment and wrote a poem about it.

This year there's a hurricane again so I guess I better write another poem about it:

Rain like big pigs sucking on the sidewalk,
trying to get to the library and the bus has broken down.
Wet skin, wet bones, wet earth and wet toes,
feeling for a pack of upturned lips.

Maybe we should all groan along inside,
relax the grey away until we're dusted over.
Little baby peacock wants to jump in puddles,
found a broken guitar in my toilet ring.

Muttered puddles break down towered piles
of thought and sand and sticks.
A soggy mash of ideas that stain, run, tear and wrinkle.
Thinking about trying on another person's brain.

If it all shuts down when the sky turns brown
hand in hand with the sound of my...mumbling.
Buy a cat and name him Charlie, something cute.
Sleep in and make pancakes.

We can wait until it's dry to play again.

Eh....it made about as much sense as last year's.