Internal Combustion

“Do you see that clutter there?,”
He asks, and points toward an
Office filled with stacks of paper,
Open books, a vase with wilted
Flowers and a plate of partly-
Eaten food. “The clutter in here's
Worse,” he says, his finger now
Turned toward his head. “There's
Too much going on. I cannot
Concentrate. I have no fun,
So I am going to get away.
You do what you'd like with what
Is there. I'll work on what's in
Here. I plan to take a lengthy
Drive.” He turns and starts
To walk away. “Who knows
When I'll be back?”



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 39 times
Written on 2017-03-07 at 15:00

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