Three weeks! I can’t believe how fast this month is moving. Wow!
Today, I want you to write a confessional poem. And then, get to enjoying your weekend.
Here’s my attempt for the day:
“Kong in the Congo”
And that’s why I never climb trees anymore.
I mean, after you fake your death once, you realize
you may not get too many more chances to stay
anonymous. But I gotta tell you, that fall from
the Empire State Building was murder–and a few
of those pilots grazed me on purpose, I’m sure of it.
Yeah, I didn’t get the girl in the end, but women
will only kill you if you keep ’em around too long,
and that’s the honest to goodness truth. Besides,
she was always screaming and crying and being
a bad sport. She never actually cared ’til I was “dead.”
And believe me, Kong will dead; I really will.