a child is unwrapping
her birthday gift
in the center
of a makeshift stadium
the audience of strangers
in the tens of thousands
cheering her on
throwing visual objects
on the neatly cut grass
surrounding her
music blaring as shes roars
raising the stuffed T-Rex
high above her head
february two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I didn’t make the bed.
I meant to take the dog for a walk.
I forgot to take the garbage out.
When I went to the store to buy some milk
and bread I ended up spending
all my money on lottery tickets.
I was late for work again and they promptly
fired me.
Years went by and I forgot everyone’s birthday.
I couldn’t afford to pay the rent so out the door I went.
I found a new world living below the surface.
I lost my dog.
As I walked the sunken streets at night
I came to realize not even death wanted me.
november two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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