Old work from my poetry workshop last semester. More to follow if I find them!

Land of the Free

I was feeling fit. Physically. It was always good to feel that way. Nothing against being mentally fit, but maintaining a physical fitness was a lot easier. I felt so good, I started punching things. I punched the couch, the mailbox, the city bus. I was about to punch a sand crab on the beach when an old lady stopped me. “You shouldn’t punch living things,” she told me. “Why,” I asked. “Because of the laws of nature,” she said. I had never heard of such a thing. I pulled out my law degree, folded up in my wallet and showed it to her. “It’s from Harvard,” I pointed out, “and I’ve never heard of these laws of nature.” She explained that it had something to do with creation and Coke bottles, the slaves on Jefferson’s plantation and an old Paris whorehouse. “Have a great morning,” she said, walking away. I headed back home. The wind had been taken out of my sails. It was a significant downer. On the sidewalk, a shiny new bicycle was practically begging to be punched, but my heart wasn’t into it anymore. Caution would have to be taken in the future. I didn’t want to break any of the laws of nature. The prison was tired of housing and feeding me.