i wonder
if i whiled away my morning hours
finding the rhymes
and alliterations with time,
if i’d feel more
connected/
more a part of/
more in line
with my silly morning poems —

if i seriously sat still
thinking of the perfect line
the perfect rhyme
the perfect kind of poem to
express
and impress
and decompress
and perhaps then
i’d force my poems on others

[but, as it stands now, i can only make that happen
for like half to two thirds of a full poem,
and then i let go the pretense, and get back to the words
that just make sense
with my morning brain]