Poetry Thursday: Shit that don't fit


The two-wheeled
coat rack
that mocks your hatred
of exercise

The hideous lamp
you snatched
off the side of the road
whose torn shade
matches nothing,
including the base
that supports it

The heirloom
dining-room table
that seats sixteen
(with the leaves)
but far more efficiently serves
to remind you
of using rooms for the reasons
dead people say
you should

The 14 days
of MP3s
not played

The yard-high stack
of "information"
you have no need of

The books you bought
because the time you wanted
to read them
was not for sale

Throw them out
Give them away
Send them back
Pass them on

Because life is too short
and far too precious
to waste on too-tight pants
and too-small ideas
and all the rest
of that shit that don't fit.

Let go of the stuff
and ideas
will shyly float in
to replace it

We are made
for thoughts
and poems
and love
and the space
to enjoy them

How sad
we can't see that
for want of a way
through the clutter.


Image by via Flickr, used under a Creative Commons license.