When Inspiration Runs Dry…

no picket fence or herb-filled garden
no trim green lawn or trees,
no emerald green shutters and crisp white paint,
no rolling hills for me

instead, brown siding’s what i got
to frame my 40-foot home
my postage stamp yard adorned with glass
from the neighbour’s last drunken brawl

screen door needs patching, the bathtub leaks,
most of the furniture’s made of milk crates
but i would never trade my home
in Sunrise Ridge Estates

i love the view from upon the roof,
when the damn lights dont hide the stars,
i love the bright red shaggy carpet
that adorns the floor & walls

i love the guy who’s ring i wear,
who sits on the sagging couch
with bleeding heart he writes his songs
as we pray for one more buck

yes, life is good with my mullet-clad man,
in our 40 foot paradise
struggling musician and pregnant wife
as we live the trailer trash stereotype

(March 28, 2005)


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