A friend once asked why I write poetry.
Judging by the pinched look on her face,
she might as well have asked why I juggle snakes.
In thinking on the matter,
it’s like having a sneeze that won’t come.
When it finally does, it just feels good.
A poet understands...
To my friend, I simply said
there are things inside that must come out.
They are uncomfortable where they are,
like having a mosquito bite that you can’t quite reach.
When you find someone to scratch it,
it just feels good.
Oops, gotta go.
I feel a poetic sneeze coming on
and it’s gonna feel
so     good.