THE DROP-OFF BOX

In Your Head
(to be read very fast)
There is a poem in my head
Nothing like what I’ve read
I wonder if it I should write
Even in the middle of night

Seems to go round and round
With rhymes so very profound
But I can not seem to get it out
Unseemingly I feel like a lout

With its lines so rich and pure
And nothing we can’t endure
But real soon I just better see
If I can just get it out of me

It is driving me to madness
It is giving me such sadness
There’s no paper and no pen
Just so I can get it out again

Scurrying around like a rat
Let me grab my coat and hat
Get me to the Seven Elevens
Just so I could write, heavens

Devine lines so rich indeed
Writing them I must proceed
And all the lines I know ‘em
‘Cause in my head is a poem

Got the paper and got the pen
I’m hustling home once again
At my desk to begin to write
Have to get them out tonight

And just as I begin to write it
Off I nod like some dumb wit
Then waking in the morning up
I just begin to weep in my cup

All those lines I had thought
Have now all come to naught
So tonight when you do get to bed
Be sure no poems are in your head