things i steal from other men

some people, i won’t name names,
like their poetry like this:
hop on pop with a red mop 
while reciting the good doctor 
seuss and mr. zop,

i prefer poetry that goes like this:
i was walking down the road until if forked
one tine to the left and the other lefter,
less traveled you might say. 
not knowing
which fork to take i turned around,
went home to the warmth and hearth
of a fiery fire place
where i made some pinto beans,
some corn bread, some dirty rice,
some berry cobble for dessert. 
such a fine meal i fell asleep 
and dreamed
of going down the lefter road.
© SB Joy, 2022

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