Excuse Me, I’m Writing a Poem Here?

I'm up to my kneecaps

in mockery and swill, and …

 

Excuse Me,

I'm Writing a Poem here?

Thank you. Sheesh!

 

As I was saying,

I'm up to my kneecaps in mockery and swill.

And I meet someone who

names all his fish after

people he doesn't like,

because if they die

he won't feel bad.

 

And they're all named

Bob.

And I thought I

was special.

 

Also, he's in love

with this Barcalounger

that's been ripped up

by the Wolfman.

 

And … Excuse Me,

I'm Writing a Poem here?

Excuse me? Hello?

 

So, anyway,

I see a man standing outside a bar in Paris

talking to his own reflection

in the window

when no one else

is listening.

 

And you know that isn't good.

But you know it's not that bad

either, because so what if he

doesn't own a mirror?

He still wants to see if he's

still there, right?

 

Or is he watching someone

in the future, or the past?

I know we all thought the future

was behind us, at the time.