Thoughts On The Dead

Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

A Terrible Poem About Returning Home

That hotel was finer than my home
Objectively
Cleaner and
Well-appointed
The water was free
The jellybeans were gourmet
(But not free)

The ceiling fan was attached to a dimmer switch
Mine has three settings
Click click click
With a cheap metal chain

And Brooklyn is a finer place than Boynton Beach
Inarguably
Sexier and
Well-endowed
It was not as cold as I pretended
Sometimes I pretend so that I might complain

But my desk was not there
Or my library
Which is arm’s reach away
On my left

Or my car
Which I can flee in
The hotel had a BMW X5 that would whisk guests
Anywhere at all
(Within a mile)
For free
A BMW X5 is a finer car than a Ford Focus
Objectively
Spacious and
Well-appointed
But I did not have the keys

From my bed
To my bathroom
Five steps to the left
Seven to the right
Reach out your hand for the doorknob
There it is
Every single time

Be it so very fucking humble
There’s no place finer than home

2 Comments

  1. Never leave us again

  2. Luther Von Baconson

    December 28, 2016 at 10:56 am

    nothing beats your own fartsack. consider road trips though, lots of stuff to write about, his & her stories from the mundane to sordid, $4.99 Cheeseburg lunches, homefries/eggs/toast/peameal/coffee, roast pork lions, cabbage rolls & potato salad…….

    i know a few places you could stay for a day or two. then a straight shot to Spencer’s and the Drive Shed.

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