I write 'cause I know how;
I've never tried lefting,
'Cause my memory's crap,
But I don't like forgetting.
I write 'cause I don't know
Where to start or to stop
(Twenty years in the past?
Or keep on 'til I drop?),
'Cause old habits die hard,
and I'm not even armed,
'Cause I don't have the heart
To stop old habits living large,
Because when people speak of
“afterlives,”
I always picture marriages,
'Cause Death forgot to stop for me
and bring the baby carriage.
I write 'cause twenty years ago,
It kept me entertained.
It's the perfect ending to a month
Of mangled, messed-up days.
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