the broom

the broom is on the floor

but it won’t pick anything up

unless someone picks it up

the coffee is always hot

but drinkable just the same

sometime it gets lonely

at the kitchen table

no one needs me

or joins me for dinner

will leave my coat on

just in case I have to leave

or go hang with the cat

not because I have fleas

just because the smell in the air

is new shoe smell

that’s the only way to describe it

the broom is still on the floor

because everyone walks

right over it…

apparently enough

feel like twisting the mind

it’s the only way to get thought out

right around four o’clock

and nearly dark as these eyes

been open all day to everything

around and no one has been around

just a lot of rain getting lost

in the drips in the bowl until full

then overflowing doesn’t matter

everything is wet two days now

and the chill doesn’t help

out around the house

random strange thoughts

had one when the television

turned on seemingly by itself

not at all that odd

except no remote control involved

in a thought more about it

after it gets dark pen will still move

quick-like drinking too much

and not eating enough

always hungry without the smoke

everything is different

spot to put thought down

like words just for the sake

of taking thought out of the mind

twisted in the wind

and the storm never really got

too strong apparently enough…

cat trips me up

the cat trips me up as I

walk around the room looking for my place

within the head I carry

while I walk wherever I might

walk for days at a time when others

might sit or run the other way

when I think about it long enough

do I really have anything to say

and who is really listening

to the voice everyone else hears

not like the voice heard in the head

born into this world without choice

decision already made myself fall asleep

with pen in hand book open

for thought coffee is still hot

been there all day…