The party's over.

Dear National No Poetry Writing Month, I have failed you. I really thought I could make it. I mean, May is just a week away, and my office is full of things to do. I could have recycled some paper in honor of Earth Day. I could have gone for a jog across campus, or spent more time on facebook, or eaten two granola bars instead of one, and organized my paper clips. This morning on my way to work, I should not have noted something funny that I misread. I should have left my office door open all the way, instead of just ajar. I should have taken a picture of that little ripped-up piece of sod on the sidewalk, anything but this. But now it's too late, and I have failed to comply. I have disrespected my own holiday. I have spit upon my own history month. Just days after its declaration! I have let teaching this book get to me, and now there's no turning back. This chicken's had its head cut off, and now there's no stitching it. The body is still running around the barnyard. Perhaps I should stop declaring holidays. The chicken's head is laughing at me, and I am laughing back.