Last night in bed I wrote the greatest poem ever written.
It kept running through my head
and I beamed with pride at
having outperformed every poet
alive or dead.
You were asleep,
and I didn't have the heart
to move your head from my chest
so I could jot it down.
Soon I fell asleep and the poem flew away
and buried itself in an unmarked grave,
totally forgotten.
I never remembered a word of it
and I really don't care
because you were warm and fit me perfectly.
Michael Callahan
Thursday, January 17, 2008
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