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This writing was accepted for publication in the 84 page perfect-bound issue... cc&d magazine (v219) (the April 2011 Issue) You can also order this 5.5" x 8.5" issue as an ISSN# paperback book:						This writing also appears in this 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback “Falling Into Place” Order this 6" x 9" ISBN# book: (also available through amazon.com)

Order this writing in the book Literary Town Hall cc&d edition		order the 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

Order this writing in the book 100 Words (the 2011 poetry collection book)		get the short poem collection 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

Never cry in the shower

Michael Hoag

Never cry in the shower
Scented soap will crawl up your tears and into your eyes
And hurt
Never itch the top of your feet
You will only untie your shoelaces
And trip
Never wake someone by squeezing their hand
They will only open their eyes
And smile
Never borrow a jacket
You’ll only get a Le Moda leopard print wrap with a full length black zipper and pink collar
Never keep presents
Your rooms will turn into a conglomerate of other people’s things
A pool
A collection
An anthology
You will never buy
Pets will always be the wrong color
Plants will never be the right size
Candles will always smell like cinnamon
And you will have nothing but deserts
And garden vegetables
And plates will never match
And you’ll have nothing but pink shirts
And never enough toothpaste
Because no one gives toothpaste
And you will have nothing of yourself
And everything of others
And only presents
Other people’s presents
I have other people’s presents
I buy nothing
My clothes are pink
My books are all popular
My technology is old
My hair is cut wrong
And my lamps
And my spices
And my luggage
I have useless things I hang on my walls as decoration
These presents
These damaged presents
Filled with things and people and feelings and hilarity
All these things from these others
And these borrowed words
And these green signs and white signs
And painting trim and painting walls
And sometimes wet and sometimes dry
And sleeping in trees and sleeping in beds
And not knowing when to sleep
And everything is something else to me
And nothing to everyone else
Tying all these things and people together
I mull
I cherish
I memory
Because of these presents I keep

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