Too Much Information

by Joseph McCombs

Let's not talk about soul,
sex or poetry. Push away the dishes,
forget your failing marks in
introductory chemistry. We've time enough
for words later.

I've got a small mind today.

This week I worked 47 hours
watching Windows play its ritual out,
attended 4 readings where my mind
was expanded to the point of cloudburst,
studied the boycotts of Procter & Gamble,
and frankly, I'm tired. We've time enough
for words later.

My ears are still ringing from TMI.

Just give me a patch of skin
on your body to call my own,
allow me one shallow space
not distant from heartbeat
where I can set my weary head
and get my tongue all tied
so I never want to talk again.
I dig this respite. We've time enough
for words later.

I like you better than this world.

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