What it is

June 2010: In a desperate attempt to stave off senility, the monkey began writing a poem a day. By summer's end he'd begun to run out of versified political rants and philosophical bloviations. Then he hit on the improbable idea of writing micro fiction in the form of Elizabethan sonnets. Eureka. The birth of the "Sonnets From Other Lives" series. Two hundred plus lives later, he's still at it.

Sunday, November 6, 2011

209
Sonnets From Other Lives: Murphy

Why is it some guys—they have all the luck?
--Murphy asks himself a lot these days.
Everything I do ends up all fucked
up one way or another. You could say
it was the story of his life. In school
he was the guy who always would get caught.
Other dudes would pull stuff—act the fool
& walk away scott free. It’s like he got
branded at birth with a guilty leer.
Now he’s driving home at 3 AM
with blue lights flashing in the rear view mirror.
Aw shit—he mutters—here we go again.
& he just KNOWS the cop will find the drugs.
You're the windshield sometimes. Mostly Murph's the bug.
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