Riding My Bike Back From the Mall

Yeah,
you knew this
was coming,
right?

I got a bike,
I write about
    everyday things,
and voila!

I know
it's not deep,
or obscure academic
    poetry.

It's comprehendable,
not dada-esque --
revered dada-esque.

It's not even
Charles Bukowski
drunk pathetic
poetry.

No metaphors,
no rhymes,
no special names of plants
or other things
no one really knows.

O Robert Frost,
this is not
your poetry!

I'm not counting
my syllables,
dear Haiku!
haha!

I'm not
going to a "slam"
to recite this
while I bob
back and forth
and angrily
try to make it
more than it is.

Instead, I'm telling
a simple story:

I rode my bike
  back from the mall
  and I was happy.


-Jim DuBois
June 19, 2013