Poet Laureate Of My Garage

          Buddha is

          in my garage

          his likeness

          that is

 

          Chipped, faded

          in lotus position

          impervious to the

          passing of time

 

          Eyelids half closed

          surrounded by old

          empty beer bottles

          meditating stoic

 

          Sitting blankly

          atop industrial shelf

          where other men

          would keep tools

 

          I’m hopelessly

          inadequate  at

          manhood, more so

          being human

 

          Mans tools

          build walls

          and mine tear

          them down

 

          My tool is

          this pen and

          I use it like

          a pickaxe

 

          with it I am

          poet laureate

          of this garage

          watching squirrels

          scurry up and

          down the oaks

 

          *******************

 

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