the ocean doesn't know
it's National Poetry Month
it's always roaring
like a lion anyway
and even with all the patience in the world,
the shore can't tame it
so it settles for the heavy petting
if I put a line break
here
I can control how you
hear
my voice right now
the closest I get
to being in charge
of this poetry thing
the streetsweepers don't know
it's National Poetry Month
their minds are always
in the gutter anyway
the crushed coffee cups
cigarette butts
newspapers and discarded concert flyers
that one shoe
each a page in the city's diary
each an ingredient for inspiration
when mixed in the melting pot
properly
my laptop doesn't know
it's National Poetry Month
it's all control and function
irregardless anyway
it should do what I tell it to
when I turn it on
but we all know
how that really goes
the beautiful woman reading a book at the bus stop
might know it's National Poetry Month
because she's begging to be
a poem
I didn't want to make this poem
about any one person or thing but
today her wish
is granted anyway
something tells me
she always gets what she wants
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