My house is full of everything imaginable.
Plus a few extra strange things like really old books.
And the gas, electric, water systems are filled.
My fridge is full; even have money in the bank
That comes regularly like the mail and garbage collection.
Cars and tools fill the garage. Medicine cabinet’s full.
Plenty of wine for me and food for the dog and cat.
Cupboards and closets are really full of this and that.
This list could go on and on about my fulfilled life–
And I didn’t make any of it. Not sock, shoe, or hat.
Not a pan or a pencil. Certainly not my computer.
Other-bodies made all things for this consumer.
I’ve made nothing. All the things — every one —
That I use every day were made by others.
I mean every grocery store is stocked full. Always!
How’d I get so lucky? Jeeze!! All these years
And I haven’t made anything for anybody.
I did a few books– but nobody reads them–
And why should they? Did I make the paper,
The ink, the printing press? Poems make happy! Ha!
Looks like I’ll leave this life having never put
One thing in anybody’s fridge, closet, or gut.
In some minds? This pipsqueak? Just mine!!  But Whoops!
There goes another UFO–Unfulfilled Objective.
Well, I think I can still fulfill some of those.
Had about eight different lives already. Number 9!!
Think I’ll go fill my tank and take a drive
On a road I didn’t build. But hey!! Add it up.
I’m living a fulfilled life. One lucky Dude!
Memory banks are overflowing. Chances are
I’ll wake-up in a bed I didn’t make tomorrow.
You guessed it. I’m still making my bed. Yeah!
Word’s out. He’s still making it. Fill’er up!!