There are things I never get around to,
no matter how much I urge myself.
Those are the things that I should
do.
When it’s a standoff between me and guess-who,
it’s invariably myself
that wins, so I never need to
buck up and hide away my blues.
Why?—because I’ve learned not to expect myself
to do the things that I should do,
like submit poems and wear shoes—
always favoring my naughty self,
who lives only to
sling rhymes and try to please the muse.
“Oh, you incorrigible self!”
I plead, but I still won’t do the things that I should
do.
I only do what I want
to,
so I’m in perfect harmony with myself.
So many things that I should do
besides sing love songs to myself, that’s who!
