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Russians, Daddies, and Mouth Glue
by Glenn CurrierI awakened with my lips sticky
like the door in the engine room
I barely shoved open
before the Russians threw their daggers.
Don't ask me how I ended up there
in their rusty old ship
or why they were in such a running rage.
It was probably that midnight vodka
or maybe the dread I felt
about sorting the chaos on my desk
or was it my mother's dry teat
or my father's anger?
My bladder saved me from my pitiful fate
just in time to get out the garbage
so my wife wouldn't say no. 08/16/2005 Posted on 08/16/2005
Copyright © 2025 Glenn Currier
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 08/17/05 at 12:53 AM Hahaha! Some nights the dreams are raucous! Some times one can trace back their source. ( I do not usually remember mine, only that I dreamed.) |
| Posted by Jeanne Marie Hoffman on 08/21/05 at 12:26 AM The title captured me as well! Entertaining, to say the least |
| Posted by Meghan Helmich on 07/22/08 at 03:22 PM this is so random and yet perfectly fit together. glenn...i love this! |
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