If I wasn't such a deadbeat, I'd learn Greek.
I wouldn't write sonnets; I'd write epics
and odes. I'd love a man who was
acceptable and conformed to every code.
I'd put together my desk and write my epic or ode
at sunset over my suburb. How I would love my shrubs!
But all I do is listen to country (and the occasional Joni)
and smoke. Judge me judge me
judge me. Oh I've been through the shallows.
I shallow. I hope. I hole. I know
I wrote you the most brutal love poem that knows.

About this Poem
"I wrote this poem last summer, which was spent mostly getting myself into trouble and listening to country music on my record player. So, I guess this is a little love poem that celebrates the laziness of the summer season and the remarkable beauty of everyday life that much of country music can convey so well. In addition, I think this poem is also a gentle critique of poetic ambition." -Sandra Simonds

About Sandra Simonds
Sandra Simonds is the author of "Mother Was a Tragic Girl" (Cleveland State University Press, 2012). She teaches at Thomas University and lives in Tallahassee, Fla.

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(c) 2014 Sandra Simonds.
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