Sad Endings are Unreasonable
~~Mike and Bryan

You moved to a bathtub near Fort Bragg
after I sent someone to inspect your bed.
Certain trends allow my lack of an apology.

But here I am, saving the best and last.
They have outlawed conversations.
I refuse to bow to swagger, and sag.

I hear your arm operating the faucet and
think of attending a concert concerning twists.
Old chairs and dogfood cans nullify the shore.

And for these reasons I am corporate.
I slouch, friends, because these reasons
are taped to carcasses everywhere.

So maybe you're right and all these post-it
notes and scooped chests remind you of procreation's
less nifty conclusions. You fault finder!

There is no vivid imagery in an eviction notice.
There are no tempered feelings in postcards.
I sense a revolution, like dogs sniffing earthquakes.

And you're only making things slow, for
eventually we shall confiscate their furniture
and then start in on the signatures.


Bryan said...

this is a good poem. we did a good job on this one.

Mike Young said...

I want to turn into Dustin and write a story about the world contained within it, I think.

Bryan said...

do it.

Bryan said...

this is just to say

that we are handsome

for writing this poem.