A Windbag's Warning Poem by Richard Jarboe

Don't get me started
I'll talk landscape all night long;
At that point I could branch out all day long.
I'm a windbag.

In my brain there are compartments
Where I package history until dawn
Whereupon I cram it inside departments
In which one would wonder why one were born,
A windbag.

Don't get me started
About trouble in vain
When I go heavy windbag,
I go hurricane.

Some words fly around the room
Like feathers from a pillow fight,
Once we're real good and drunk
Words slur on into the night
Pay attention!
I'm a windbag.