From c1eb96578e5a40d2b6eaee0ace394cff8daf197b Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Case Duckworth Date: Mon, 2 Mar 2015 16:47:25 -0700 Subject: First complete compile --- sense-of-it.html | 39 +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 1 file changed, 39 insertions(+) create mode 100644 sense-of-it.html (limited to 'sense-of-it.html') diff --git a/sense-of-it.html b/sense-of-it.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..873ec69 --- /dev/null +++ b/sense-of-it.html @@ -0,0 +1,39 @@ + + + + + + + + + + Sense of it | Autocento of the breakfast table + + + + + + + + +
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Sense of it

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I only write poems on the bus anymore.
I sit far in the back to be alone.
I mark black things on white things in a black thing.
I try to make sense of it.

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Every time I see a plastic bag in the wind I think:
This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Most of my life I relate to something on the TV:
This is how I try to make sense of it.

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The Talking Heads song “Stop Making Sense”
is about a girlfriend caught cheating and willed oblivion.
The song’s real title is “Girlfriend is Better”
but lying about it is a way I try to make sense of it.

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The day after I lost her I found you again.
Your face made a plastic bag of my heart.
Your eyes were the wind pushing the bus forward.
I couldn’t make sense of it.

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