My Creations

My creative spurts come at odd times,
moments of premature poetic
ejaculation
if you will.

At the bar surrounded by drunks while
scrawling on cocktail napkins. On a
plane
packed in a coach seat

surrounded by angry late passengers
dreaming of traveling in first
class
while i scribble on

the back of a barf-bag. In a public
restroom next to a man sitting on the
toilet
praying to God that

he'll never eat spicy food again,
while i etch graffiti on the stall
wall
in front of me.

During sex as she screams out my name,
her name, and her lovers name, while i
tattoo
my thoughts across her

lower back. It seems my creations and
moments of inspiration are disposable
acts
of genius, captured by

a mental condom, or the uneasy droning’s
of a very sick man.

02.02.04