"partial draft of an epic by homer that didn't make the cut"

this poem will begin as the greatest journy
(i get the tea boiling, this is pretty old-fashioned)
I'm wondering if I should get the y-key fixed on my laptop
because it's broken and I have to write a paper
and I like to feel like the next paper I write
will be the greatest paper in the world.

This poem will make for a terrific prose poem
as soon as I decide whether to write about something
'specific'
or if I just wind up writing as I always do,
connecting random image after image.

clipclopping down the streets of paris on his horse
he went shopping for groceries, touching the produce
and squeezing the meats, passing by Summer's Eve and KY
without a thought, starting to get cold in the warehouse
and zipping up his sweatshirt, wondering if he'll run into somebody.

The tea hasn't quite started boiling yet,
I'll have to wait before I drink it.
I finally applied for summer work.

I hope that there were people like me
in the early industrial age, or in the
arab empire, so I don't have to worry
about not having an internship.