If You Can Read This, Thank A Bureaucrat

The cops and firemen are heroes, yes,
The paramedics, and the power crews,
The folks who man the pumps -- we cannot guess
How many we will need of those. The news
Is full of people working to bring back
The world we knew. But let us not forget
The heroes stuck behind the desks. You crack
Your jokes about them, but without them, bet
Those cops would have their cars? The ambulance
Would have its bandages and stretchers? Would
The pumpers have the maps? I have a chance
Right here to thank the people who do good
Behind the scenes, who budget, plan, all that
Can only happen with a bureaucrat.

We Have To Quit Meeting Like This, We Have To Quit Meeting, We Have To Quit

We're just here once, and, really, it has been
So long already since we two were born.
We've wasted time; it really feels like sin
To waste much more. We two, though, sad and worn,
Still fail. I flail, between our meetings, and
Forget you. Watch me now: I cry, I spit;
"Act like you give a shit," is my demand
Whene'er your arms come 'round me, as though it,
That one embrace, makes up for months, as though
You have the right to tell me "Come on back,
Drop ev'rything, do what I want." I know,
It's only me, old friend, who feels the lack
Of thought behind it, and who feels the pain.
Sunk costs are paid. What now is left to gain?

For @Lucysfootball, On The Anniversary Of Her Birth

A poet's birthday is no common thing.
We're liable to react in strength, betimes.
And since we're paid (a pittance) for to sing
We're liable to react in strength, in rhymes.
But age is comforting: we've made it far
(Much further than we'd thought we would, perhaps)
If work's undone, we need to set the bar
Accordingly, is all. We'll take more naps,
Drink wine, eat ice cream, and approach our toils
Refreshed, ignoring voices in our heads
That scream "our time is fleeting," such as spoils
Our lines. But Amy knows, and never dreads
A natal day: she counts down, spazzes out
And blesses us at midnight with a shout!