When I was looking out my office window today, trying to relax and convince myself that I didn’t overdo it at lunch today (I’ll admit it: I did), I ended up face-to-face with an ornate, long-abandoned shell of a building. The city put up barriers to keep people from selling their bodies or drugs or knock-off watches beneath the old hotel’s tattered awnings. I ended up with a loose snippet of poetry:
You dead downtown lightning bug
What stories did you choke
Trying to tell?
But what can you do with something that short? I lack the self-assurance and the hungry audience of someone who could present Instagram-length poetry. I guess this stanza will wait for something better, much like the sleeping hotel itself.
Do you have any scraps of poetry that never found a home? Drop me a line in the comments.