I cannot remember the last time I wrote a poem.

I am easily bored. Fortunately, I am very good at entertaining myself. I enjoy my days off beyond what is reasonable. I like the rain. I miss cooking but working nights makes it difficult to plan meals and such. Tonight we are having garlicky pizza bread and homemade brownies and freshly brewed iced tea. This makes me happy.

Last night I had a dream that I lived in a tiny little house without indoor plumbing. Aliens in gas masks descended from a nuclear mushroom cloud while singing their plans for world domination. They ate everyone on earth who was ill or injured, leaving only the perfectly healthy people alive. They used the heads of the deceased as Jack-O-Lanterns and they drove cars made of giant mammoth bones and had terrifying mouths with long teeth. I tried to escape in a R.V.

I don't think I made it.

Sometimes I think I should write screenplays for surrealist horror movies.

Sometimes I think I need therapy, or at least some designated quiet time.