THERE ARE HUNDREDS IF NOT THOUSANDS OF POEMS WRITTEN IN PRISON WHERE I HAD WAY TOO MUCH TIME TO THINK. THEY’LL COME OUT AS THE NEED ARISES
There is butter in the stereo speakers from where you threw a tantrum Mama and I don’t know how to get it out.
You have left me here in the living room with broken plates, stinky garbage, and a torn dress
And I can only think about the Butter
You told me to have it all cleaned up by the time you get back.
Where are you going Mama? Please don’t leave me here alone.
There are so many holes so small, I cant get the butter out of all these holes and I’m scared
I’m scared here all alone and I’m scared you’ll get back before I can get up and get started
My arms and my back burn so much
Maybe I’ll lay here a little minute more and listen to the Bee Gees sing How Deep Is Your Love through the Butter Speaker
His voice is so sweet but I really need to get that butter and then I’ll find a box to put the dishes in
Daddy will buy me a new dress
And we will go to that Furniture Store you like and get you a new couch and you will be so happy
I’m sorry I was bad
Why were you mad at the couch Mama
It smells like smoke and puppy dog and I like to put my feet under the cushions when you’re not looking
But right now I need to think about that Butter
I cant seem to get up
As soon as I can I think I’ll try to lick it clean