Rocky

Poetry can be hard for most people because our mums still tell us to buckle up

but lifted khaki Jeeps

don’t have all-season tires

and our ear-drums have become goo.

I once saw an old Willys topless

and by Willys I mean the original B.A., you know? Jeep

in a Tim Horton’s drive-thru.

That’d make for a poetic situation

if I wasn’t too busy

silently screaming

Did you hear that engine?

Maybe poetry is hard for most people because aliens are still kicking around

but tin foil hats

are out of season

and our brains have become goo.

I once saw a moose walking over a sled

and by sled I mean snowmobile, you know? skidoo

on a bridge in the middle of winter.

That’d make for a poetic situation

if I wasn’t too busy

silently screaming

Fuckin’ eh! A Fucking Moose!

What if poetry is hard for most people because tin foil hats go out of season

but dying

dying has no season

and our hearts become goo.

I once saw an accident behind my old school

and by old school I mean high school, you know? hell

on an unsafe intersection across the QE2.

That’d make for a poetic situation

if I wasn’t too busy

silently screaming

If I close my eyes it goes away.

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