I’m a neatnik.

I don’t know how I became one

or I was always one and didn’t

recognize it.  This is highly improbable.

One day someone (Mom) told me it

might be a good to clean up my room.

Looks fine to me.  So, I did it–under

duress & then follow-through, even.

So, I kind of like it, when all was

said & done.

Then somewhere along the line,

I got compulsive about it.

I’m sure there’s a middle

ground & that’s where I

want to land–not straightening

every picture in everybody’s

house I visit.

I’m a neatnik.  Like it or

leave it.  I wish I could–and

till find stuff when I need it–


Categories: creative, creative writing, Poetry, Uncategorized | Tags: | Leave a comment

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