A Box of Poems

Along side the tissues and chocolates
On my nightstand is a box of poems
Waiting to be, uh, uh, eaten? Nose wipes?
Lord only knows what to do with these
Useless things! Maybe I’ll fold’ em
And fly’ em like loose paper kites
Swirling in warm tradewinds and land’em
On seven continents for love letters.
Perhaps I’ll bottle each one and release it
In the outgoing tide, to ride the waves
Like lost surfboards heading to sea
To be found by indigenous beachcombers
Longing for human traces to color a
Drab existence. Or better yet, they can stay
By my bed, so that my dreams
Can grab a word or two of passion
As the long nights fade.