Fucking Zen up

I was packing
my books
in the truck
and every one
fit snug
but not too snug,
you know

Then it dawned on me:
I left my notebook
at the bookstore
shit!!
Eight minutes til close
I hop in
I rev it up
I hug it up like a bitch
with hands in the 10 and 2 o’clock
I’ll never make it
and some cocksucker’ll nab
my sketch pad full of poems
Then try to publish them
and get ridiculed.
Never mind
I gun it
and hit ten green lights
and make a 20 minute
trip in 6
I sashay in
and the lights are off in the store
They confront me
and before long I
‘ve raised an army
of booksellers
combing
dark
bookstores.

We find nothing.

Then I remember
the scrape and the clank
on my way
to the
book store.

I almost get pulled
over by a cop
racing off
and my insurance expired yesterday

12 minutes later I
see her waving hi
in the street
No, not a hooker
better
My notebook
She’d slid off the roof
of the car

And there’s parking next
to the door
Sometimes Zen is fucking up Zen
or Dao
or Whatever

Yesterday I lost my wife’s keys.