Poem: Tired Minds

Tired minds
Don’t write good poetry
At Happy Hour I get stoned
As the semis pass
And the flags flap

My tires ain’t bald
Had ’em overhauled
Are you undervalued?
Soft and malleable?

Leaves are blowin’
My shadow’s flowin’

Mole hills and mountain tops
Fertile minds
Withering crops

You do you
That’s what they say
Jes’ don’t
Jes’ don’t
Get in our way

~ Gunnar Våken