A Little Bit About Me

            Story of My Life

                                               

I just had the most brilliant thought!

Oh, shoot! Not again…I forgot.

But it was quite ingenious—I’m not joking at all.

You’d see if I could only recall.

Shower of Consciousness

                                               

If someone asked me why I’m so long

In getting out of the shower and into my bed,

I’d have to say, it’s simply because

Of the thoughts traversing my head.

Seldom is peace found that can match

That of warm water over the skin

For then is one’s mind made free of distraction

And the thoughts form clearly within.

Many a verse (yes, even these) were conceived

In the soothing shower;

The majority, I’d say, of my works in this way

Were created—so great water’s power.

I wonder what writings we owe to the shower

And what we would have were it sooner invented;

But grateful I am for this time before bed

When my thoughts, young and new, are fermented.

It’s True

I really am a brilliant man.

Yep, brilliant as can be.

There’re other smart men—yes of course—

But none so smart as me!

When I first thought of this poem,

I thought I might try to prove

Or at least support this claim, you see.

(Hmm…few words rhyme with prove.)

The fact is, my brilliance

Is usually just accepted….

So maybe I’ll finish this poem later

As my argument’s not yet perfected.



            My Worst Nightmare

I enter the tailor’s on my way home from work,

Looking sharp as Sir Lancelot’s lance.

I greet the lady behind the desk

And ask her to dry clean my pants.

“Of course,” she says. “Just bring them in.”

“Oh, I have them here,” I say and freeze…

There on me now, I realize,

As I glance at the fabric upon my knees.

This could be awkward, I say to myself;

But I really need these pants for tonight.

To wear dirty pants to a formal dinner

With the CEO just wouldn’t be right!

My boxers are modest—oh! why’d I wear pink?!

Oh well, things are as they are…

I could take off my pants and walk straight to the car—

It’s a good thing it’s not very far.

Perhaps there’s another pair somewhere at home.

There is…but I can’t seem to find them.

Well, I guess I could look, but who knows where they are?!

And besides they need a much shorter hem.

I don’t think I have time to go home and come back.

I could try, but it’s such a long ways.

Alright, you can do this…just take off your pants.

Let’s face it—you’ve done worse in your day.

“Um sir,” says the lady, “I nearly forgot.

Your wife stopped by just yesterday,

And she gave me some pants to be hemmed. If you’d like

I can get them. You don’t have to pay.”

“Saved!” I exclaim with a sigh of relief;

She looks at me queerly, then hands me the pair.

I heartily thank her, rejoicing inside

That I won’t have to leave in just underwear.