~Untitled~December 14 2006~

My



strasse


is

too


wide
I can never manage to cross it
completely
I try






"There's a fewthang's inthestreet, girl"
it's the little-man-in-my-head
I don't know who he is
never have






He wants to keep me on the curb.
Dammit.
They always move
not like they could ever stay in the same place
Ever
so's I could navigate
My





strasse
without getting my legs knocked from 'neath me.

Y'know that old joke
why the chicken crossed the road?
He only got across because
there were no
pink elephants
in
his strasse.
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© Robyn Fenner

The theme this week for Poetry Thursday was to write about streets. I'm not one of those people who can write well about surroundings and such, like what wet streets seem to be-poetically, but what I can write about is what is going on in my head. There's always something or other going on in there. I've been writing about what's going on in my gray matter since I was 14. Honestly, I do, if I want to evolve with my poetry, need to learn how to write in styles different than what I'm used to. You know, step out of the comfort zone. That's what poets do anyway. Right? Make people uncomfortable?