I’m writing this poem under duress.
Too many cookies inside my chestl
Why this pain over the good.
I know myself. That’s understood.
But oh that sweet in glorious excess
kicks me in the shins for my digress.
Call it diabetes or any old thing
that makes me rise and walk off the sting.
Ah now it’s gone. A bird’s in the sky!
A little bit of pain sharpens the eye.
If I keep walking I can eat one more chip.
Now it’s gone. Oh the pain in my hip!
Maybe a glass of milk will dilute the pain.
Render inside and outside the same.
So inside the pane can moo at the moon
for whatever reason. Maybe it’s June.
While outside the mooing could tame.
The best of both worlds in and out.
Movement without pain pressing the snout.
I’ll stand by my window. Won’t take a break.
And render I’m a god for God’s sake!