Shit

Soft cursive on a nine-by-seven page. I need a refrain.

Scribbled-out squirrels and cinderblocks. I need a refrain.

Doodles of cats in the margins of a composition book.

“The soft wind.” Too cheesy. List under no-no’s in chalk. I need a refrain.

Maybe a poem about first love and the inevitable heartbreak: 

A love worth writing about. There’s the clock. I need a refrain.

Love has me banging my head against the wall,

trying to write a poem I can’t see. Oh stop. I need a refrain.

A poem about the struggles that cause my generation strife?

How we’re all desensitized by the lies? Fuck. I need a refrain.

Social networking connects and disconnects us--

It’s time to spread the truth. No, I can’t talk. I need a refrain.

I’m at the bakery, reading interesting poems.

Nothing opens the gate to this grey glob. Shit, I need a refrain.