Thank You Card

A poem with lots of yummy imagery and a decent autobiography behind it.

Thank You Card

Its never comfortable
sleeping on your couch.
The blankets only made my skin
more aware
of the fridge in the corner.
There's no need for lace
to cover me up.

The walkie talkies we had
in childhood, you know where
they are? Snail mail won't
cover it when I leave
the country.

You say we're too
young -- look in the mirror.
We're not the kids who
fed the ducks.

Let's go on some mainsteam
road trip, music blasting and
cigarettes in our right hands,
so Daddy won't find us. All
he'll have are year-old suicide
notes and stale photographs of us.

Color me bored, dear, for
this everyday
idea is getting to taste
like a stale bread crumb plea,
complete with a monotone,
"No, its my hot dog, not yours."
Eternity's a long time -- there's
not much left to say.

I'm tired, tired, tired. Mom
says I should grow up,
get a job, do something
worthwhile for once.

Can't you smell the sweat? There's
a Slacker dream that's
broken dream. The Sims 2
is on trial for treason.

These scripted words don't say much.