Day 170 – Bears

It’s nothing but my own fault
for poking a bear that rolls over and dies
every time, I weep for it and then
my friends all laugh at me

We are what we do when home
is far from view, and I poke bears
because I hate to be away
I hate to remember who I was
in hotel rooms

I was a bear trapped in the lobby
they would rent me for a night
to guard their doors
and I escaped but I’m still wild
down deep

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