People Still Click On Me?

Trying to write a poem

with a smile on my face.

Emoji-jacked

heart attack -  -  -  good God

it's getting hot

in the window

my

cat

is

sleeping in.

Paper and pen,

write something again.

I push it..

I push it real good.

What if I fall in love tomorrow?

What if I start to mimic

the poets who died

without ever reaching

a final resting place?

Trying to write a poem

while listening to Lana Del Rey

singing about

the next best American record.

Her voice moves

like California palm trees-

Goddamn, man

my poetry feels stuffed

inside the cushiony feeling

her voice makes.

My

cat

just

jumped

to a cooler climate,

and now I'm writing a poem

about how she left me

for something - - - good, God

what have I done

to become

this thing you love to read?

People still click on me.