Morning is for sharing.

I'm not sure if any of you wonderful readers are poetry fans, but I sure as hell am. Which makes me suspect that maybe some of you are too? As I was heading into the office today one of my favorite poems popped into my head. I love this poem. I keep thinking that my next tattoo will be a poem, and really I'm thinking it will be this one.

Repetition

BY KAY RYAN

Trying to walk

the same way

to the same store

takes high-wire

balance:

each step

not exactly

as before

risks chasms

of flatness.

One stumble

alone and

nothing

happens.

Few are

the willing

and fewer

the champions.

It would most likely go on my right ribcage. So then, on the subway, I wrote one of my own. This was a first draft; please be gentle. I'll go home and edit it later. 

I don't understand

why we are so comfortated

by plush tricks of words.

Is "Surf and Turf" the brown

fur of a favorite stuffed toy?

Does "Britney's Baby Blowout"

cast the glow of a favorite lamp?

My favorite are the words of wisdom

like "We don't find ourselves; we 

create ourselves." As if the warmth

of parallel structure makes it true.

We should cast off our baby blankets.

Try to sleep through the night alone.