'nother piece of s**t

last night i had this dream i wrote a poem.

it was my sister's wedding, except, i wasn't invited. because i was working, she said, and she didn't think i'd really care either way. plus, she said, it was just her and dave, but actually, twenty people came.

and alfred, we were on this plane, he said, when we get halfway back to the other side of the country, i want to stop and show you my childhood home, so we did.

when we got there, he told me i wasn't too young, but i said i didn't care, anyway, cause i don't feel like letting anyone do me. and mostly i just wanted to show you the poem.

but hot chenille is so
soft, and, musty
old beds
are so
dirty.