shit is the best
kind of shit. It
admits itself,
confesses the state.
Whereas I, Monday,
all days, still
strap myself
into fabulous
sneakers, struggle
to keep
what oozes
out, in. This
would be an excellent
time to earn
an undergraduate
degree,
steer clear
of Ebola, as cows
steer up at the stars
at night. Another day
has left Texas
behind it. Time
to dismantle
all footwear and
sleep.
