At times, I give-off an air of sophistication

when all of my syllables are dancing right, but more often than not

I say what I really think, and it scares people.

The facts of life are not romantic.

Most of it has to do with friction, wear and tear

and we all get ripped, tossed-out, like old newspaper

with coffee grounds and broken egg shells

weighing us down.

I don’t have time to make an impression

I’m out the door,

with a shower and no eggs.

I don’t have time to iron my shirt.

My truck is full of trash.

I’m constantly on the go.

Yesterday, at 10 PM, I realized

I was socializing with pizza sauce on my sweatshirt.

It was a risk, not to wear my work clothes

“You’re a really boring guy,” my coworkers say.

“Well—you made me this way.”

There is no time to be interesting

Life, is a runaway train

and it doesn’t make routine stops—

it just keeps going.

It helps to find something to do

amid the chaos

Writing

is that

for me.