Once upon a good day…

It’s high time Monday had a good reputation,

as a day as good or even better than any other,

because on this day – of all days – it’s easier

to be different and remembered as ‘that person’

who for some strange reason loves Mondays

more than Fridays, Saturdays or Sundays even;

what an easy way to stand out from the crowd

of depressed and over-stressed mess of days.

 

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On saying Goodbye…

Every Hello will become a Goodbye soon enough,

and every kiss comes with an end, because this is how

memories are made and that’s what separates us

from less sentient beings, less harmful or less beings

who have no forgetting, less connecting, no remembering

and no pain in ignorant bliss – and that’s the deal

we make, that’s the gamble we take, to live and love.

Saturday afternoons…

There are some who treat Saturdays like a day off

and find time for nothing at all, but I’ve never understood

the waste of a perfectly good day. It was never without

too much to do, so far to run and race against the setting

sun, with nothing in the way except the next day.

I want…

Everything’s gone now, and there’s just so much

I want back – the low ceiling of the basement,

the smell of fabric softener from the dryer vent,

I want to find the dog sleeping on her bed with

sunlight warming her back; I want to hear the coffee

maker gurgling as I wake up in my bed; I want

to empty the dishwasher while it’s still warm

and find all the right places for everything;

I want to be late for almost everything again

just because I’m with you; I want what’s gone

now that I can’t have back.

I think I’m lost…

Knowing where you are seems to be an overrated skill

like knowing where everything is at any given moment

in your house is a waste of mental energy because it’s

all in your house and you only need a general awareness

of locations and habits that keep me from storing

socks in the freezer, tweezers in the laundry or eggs

in the couch; so even when I don’t know where I am

it’s only a matter of my general awareness of locations

and habits and everything else about me and my life

might be a waste of mental energy – wherever that is.

Is there an award for that…

When I rose today, after the sun, after everyone,

and drew an expert’s breath as I took an old man’s stretch,

thanking myself quietly that I’d prepared today’s coffee

last night before retiring to a restless rest, again successful

in my well-practiced, almost casual manner of making

difficult things look casual and easy – surely causing awe

in lesser persons of which there are many, I surmise,

I wonder if there’s an award for any of this, knowing

there isn’t, but knowing there should be.

Maybe God is listening…

Those things I wish but never say,

the hopes for success and peace that

come and go away, the ways I once was

but somehow slipped away, the weight

of dreams too easily kept at bay,

all that and more haunt me as I lay

awake at the end of just another day

as I admit I’d like so much better

things to pray because maybe God

is listening.

What I see…

Red, green and blue – is all I need to see

every color in my world, my mind does the rest

while there’s no yellow or purple necessary

because it isn’t there… and it doesn’t matter,

but this makes me sad because I like purple.