I love Life.

Its gorgeous outside.

Horrible Poetry Weather.

I've never done this before.
This is God awful.

But inevitable.

And I'm alive.
So, I guess I'll start drinking.
I drink, therefore I am.

Blue skies,
Not even a partly clouded mind.

These thoughts are sparse.

And my elation, unmatched.

A bike ride?

Maybe.

My modern romantic endeavor, obtained.
Who am I?
What have I become?

I'm surely no River.
Or burst of genius.

Was that an allusion...
or illusion.

Perhaps.