poem
WRITTEN:
1998, 31 years
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
This, along with Spaghetti Pizza, was composed on April 19 while I was sitting in the beer garden of a pub, waiting for the headline act to start. I was annoyed with myself for not having brought something to read to pass the time, so I started mindlessly scribbling whatever came into my head. It's crap, I'm afraid.
Trying to write angst-free poetry
Waiting for the band to start
Wishing I'd brought some reading matter
Wondering about my email correspondents
Whether they're sick of me yet
Whether I haven't heard because they're busy doing the jobs they're paid to do
(the same ones which, incidentally, give them access to email in the first place)
Or because they're sick of me
Or because I changed my email address one time too many
And they've lost me in the most confused part of their address books
Methinks this does not make good poetry
But I am without real inspiration