Today’s NaPoWriMo task was to create a bit of a pep talk in the form of a poem. I realize what I’ve created in under an hour is the most imperfect advice ever offered to humankind, and so as Baz Lurhman reminds us, “Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia: dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts, and recycling it for more than it’s worth. But trust me on the sunscreen.“
Trust me on the Skewered Salmon
Dig out that pebble lodged in your shoe.
Decorate it with puffy eyes, red paint, black dots,
and super glue.
Put that good luck ladybug in your front yard
for all the haters to view.
That dreaded date on your calendar–
go ahead, mark it through.
A well-used sharpie keeps away
the harpies circling your will to live trees.
Here, try these. Put on your mental spanks
‘cause your headed to the shindig,
till that critic, walk the plank.
You’re to dance all night
with or without Professor Higgins.
Stare a smidgen.
Pep talk the steamed mirror
until you see yourself clearer.
Order a double, chug it down.
Let the petals of strangers
fall on your hair and gown.
Lift up the cloud’s petticoats
see her sunset surround, as
a skewered piece of salmon
offered freely on life’s tray,
let it be said gleefully,
you came,
you commented,
you ate.
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
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