catcher in the rye
poem by ruth sheppard

thoughts but no poem

i woke up singing this morning.
i mean, i was happy and all.
but last night, what i really felt like was jumping out of the window.

all i could see were these phonies-
i never left the house though.
they were on TV, in books and stuff,
acting out madman stuff in the goddamn movies.

i swear sometimes i think i'm crazy,
surrounded by these goddamn princes
making out like life's perfect and all.
that kills me.

then someone wakes them up,
and they all get sore as hell about it.
but i lie singing in bed-
there goes my crazy sense of humour again...