Wrapped up in plain brown paper
And tied with pieces of string-
Ordinary me inside:
That’s the gift of life I want.
No flash, drama, excitement-
Kardasians can have it.
Let me be blessed with boredom.
Pleasure and Pain
Some atoms, Lucretius says,
Are smooth like polished pebbles.
You could skip them across gloom’s
Flat black water and feel good.
Others have barbs. They snag and
Rip to pieces the bright silk
Of your unsuspecting heart.