I woke up in the middle of the day;
wrote my biography in half a page.
It might sound short, but I got it
all down– left out the parts
that would’ve hurt like hell on earth.
The sun was high, so I went outside.
Took a walk until my feet fell off.
I sipped my coffee with a shot of cream.
Felt good again, like I could
fill the rest of that page.
Got back to writing and faced the pain,
but my carpal tunnel had gone away.
My keyboard, now, is ergonomic.
I delayed its purchase ’cause of
my present problem with economics.
If Kurt Cobain was alive today,
he’d prolly be a disappointment
to hapless contestants
on America’s Got Talent.
I’m very sorry that this aint the grunge song
you thought it would be. But all my friends
have grown up, only to care ’bout mortgages
A tuna casserole burnt beneath a cold lid,
like the dreams we had when we were kids.