Who Needs a Bed? I've Got a Buick.

I am losing my house
(And my mind)

(Probably)

A violation of the law of mortgage
That clearly states:
“All transactions, please
In the form of your entity
(Your sanity, too)”

Indignation bestowed
graciously upon the Signer of my checks

(thank you for that, Universe)
Now, making shadows on my doorstep
Yes,

This is one for the scrapbooks.

I will never again know comfort,

Except in the form of strawberry poptarts,
And the sweet, familiar repentance
Leaking from my windshield

I am losing my house

But not all is lost, no
The soup kitchen is now
Only twelve paces from my parking spot