I'm the only one who posts anymore.

Ode to Paper

You were a tree.

A vibrent, living tree.

A bird family may have lived in you.

You could have given fruit.

We cut you down.

A ream of you is going to the hospital.

You're going to be the bill

for the old man, who can't pay

and he's going to try to barrow some money

from people who don't want him living

anymore.

A ream of you is going to the preschool.

You're going to be the background

for that macaroni art

of the three year old, who is going to

give it to his grandma out of love

and she's going to leave you up

on her fridge to remind her of her grandson

forever.

A ream of you is going to the company.

You're going to be a flyer

that's a vibrant color which

the mediocre salesman, who hates his job,

is putting on the windshields of cars

at the ballpark during the game

and you're going to blow away

or get placed in the wastebasket

so you can go to the landfill to rot

indefinitely. 

A ream of you is going to me.

You're going to be the keeper

of my poem which I could share

with my friends, who like things like this

or I could hide you in my drawer

or I could end it all with a twist of

my wrists and split you down the middle to

end it all.