Poetry in motion

I was flipping through an old journal and found this little ditty. I remember I went through a bit of a partly-finished-poem phase in college. (I got inspired...and then...got...tired.) Eliza, age 19:

It doesn't matter what I eat;
I always make a mess.
Jam on my shirt;
Crumbs on my skirt;
Sauce down the front of my dress.

Apparently I did plan to write more because I also had these lines written in the margin:

knocked-over glass
rice flying across table
noodles drip over edges of plates

Good to know that some things stay the same. That's something I find pretty much every time I re-read old journals.