Gonna get myself a box of green tea
and drink until dawn,
listening to jazz,
read poems, maybe even
sing a song

Gonna get out my old high school yearbooks,
wonder about where time flew,
Munch on butter'd popcorn,
watch some chick flicks,
for this week in
terms of politics,
I'll act as if
I ain't got a clue

Perhaps I'll spend hours here
in The Den,
experiencing my middle age spread,
might even nuke some pizza rolls,
pick up a novel, go to sleep with it

in bed

and hallucinate about the woman who
gets her dreamboat come true
as I anxiously flip
to page 152

Then, hey, what about taking a walk
in the park,
find a path that is wooded
protecting the creatures
who lurk after dark,

and after all of that,
I'll cure myself
of being a pack rat freak,
maybe try on some old shoes,
then share them
with a recyled boutique

and take the money
I find in my walks
by the way to the 99 cent
burger joint in the hood
where old houses are always the same,

but the renters are like the times,
they keep a-changin',

and so I'll masticate
on a bunned-up
mustard plaster'd
three point two ounce
facimile of preservative ridden
Un Safe Distraught Anguished beef,
but never before thinking
to pray before grazin'
and wishing that cows would
form a union

. . . and on the way home,
after riding the metro
with people I don't even know,
I'll be glad to have lived
in a nation of differences,
that allows me to grow into
what I choose to do,
choose to love and
choose to go.

Well, this poem ain't got style,
but it comes from my impromtu heart,
and let's pray that next Wednesday,
America has a brand new start.

copyright 2004, cynth'ya lewis reed
All rights reserved, (especially the right to free speech and privacy.)


(Well, see y'all on Nov. 3, I hope the nation is still in one piece,
that those of us who may be disappointed don't mess up the freedoms we fought for all along, and that nobody
gets stupid over this
neck-and-neck race
for the oval office.)
Cynth'ya Lewis Reed at the Authors Den