on the back of a yellow reciept

i forgot all the poems i wrote
on the way into work, but not the camera
cable i needed for a work
related upload. profound thoughts
collect on the floor of the car
between browned spring
leaves and ciggie butts.

i wanted to tell you
something about learning lessons
on a journey, something about hard
work. listen, if it's work
it's sposed to be hard.

if i accept
that to not accept
my role means many will
understand then this fool sits
alone on the same hill as you
my fellow travel, my campadre, my distance.