poem from Oct 2015

no big deal

one of the many terrible things
is whenever i am in fine form,
philosophical, profound, meaningful, lyrical,
when every word that falls from my lips
is pure poetry
my girlfriend will invariably interrupt me and say:
“i am getting sleepy.”
or “i am doing laundry tonight, do you have anything you want to wash?”
and it’s then that i realize
i am talking to myself, always;
she is not listening.
then I have
to remember not to sweat it,
because, really, it is
no big deal.
i should be writing
instead of talking
anyway.