But The Beards Would Be… Sorta Okay?

If everyone were just like me

The world would fall apart.

There’d be a passive love of science

But in practice only art.

There’d be a lot of people

Who don’t care what’s thought of them

When they’re writing crummy poems

At 10:08 PM.

There would be no magicians

(Or at least that are any good)

But everyone’s intentions

Would be perfectly understood.

If everyone were just like me

Very little would get done

But we’d be the best looking clones since Star Wars

And we’d have lots of understated fun.

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Don’t Pause Too Long For Thinking

Narcolepsy can affect

Your life in many ways.

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Alright… One. You Got Me.

I wanted to go

To the movies with you.

You couldn’t go

But that wouldn’t do

So I dressed like one person

Pretending to be two.

It was pretty fun.

The guy at the window

Sold me two passes

Despite recognizing

I wasn’t two lasses.

The tickets saw through my ploy

Like X-ray glasses:

Both of them said “Admit One.”

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They Did 9-11, I Promise

You don’t often hear stories

About giant sea cucumbers

Who dabble in intrigue

And paint by numbers.

You don’t hear the stories

Of the cukes of the night,

But they’re real. One day

You’ll see that I’m right…

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Hunting, To Some

A little bird called me cheap

So I murdered it,

Not because it called me cheap

But because I’m an asshole.

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It Pays To Be Uninformed

It’s hard to write a travesty

If, indeed, you are like me

And despite your hopes and dreams

Nothing hurts and no one screams.

It’s hard to find valid complaints

When no one bleeds or pukes or faints,

When songbirds sing and angels fly

And all the spiders up and die.

It’s hard to be a downer debbie

When light stuff’s light and hebby’s hebby.

The world is peaceful, lovely, flat…

Oh wait, it’s not?

I can write about that!

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The True Stories Are The Best, And The Best Deserve Many Likes And Comments

A spin across the border

Up to Canada I go

But as the guards interrogate

My engine starts to slow.

A bit of coaxing later

There’s a spitter-sputter-spop!

And off I go, yet unaware

I won’t make it to my stop.

I travel down the highways

91 and 99

Going Northward to Vancouver

And my truck’s still going fine.

I pull into a left turn lane

And my heart can only drop

‘Cause the green arrow says “go”

And my engine says “nah, stop.”

And so I try a jump start

To no avail, I hate to say.

911 responds and sends

A friendly tow truck on its way.

The nicest driver ever

Hooks up chains and ropes and all

And we drive back to America

Truck as f***ed up as Darth Maul.

Now a tow truck is a large machine

That can’t turn on a dime

And the driver drops me kindly

At the border crossing line.

I wait and wait and wait and wait

Until the light turns green

And thus begins the uphill push

Of my alternator-less machine.

I push up to the crossing

Halfway out and halfway in

$270 Canadian poorer

But back where I said “begin.”

So for a second tow I wait

Watching hour hands tick by.

If this poem’s unusually thoughtful, well

You know the reason why.

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