squeek

Check the hinges
squeaks can let them know something
before you’re ready to tell them

When I was thirteen years old, my father gave me three cigarettes and said I had to pick my battles. I smoked the first at his funeral two weeks later and the next two on the ride home with my mother. I never learned how to pick those battles, and it took me the next 20 years to loose the one with tobacco.
My mattress stopped working right around the time that the rent was due and complimented the landlord’s new horn-rimmed glasses to squeeze out another month of two pairs of clothes that didn’t match under any combination and some fancy curtains that were there when I moved in. This is how my dust collects. The typewriter alone could pay for the apartment but she at least sings to me in the shower. My left pinky could pay for the apartment alone but she hasn’t woken up in years and my heart stopped expecting her brilliance.
Stuck in the same
Lost in the snow
it’s a lockless environmental
mistake
Jerry can roll with one hand
I cant roll with two
it’s a bodiless mass
jingle