The talkative 7 year old has tired me out
Constant questions that he’s asked before, and for which I have no answers.
Constant comments and observations about everything.
And funny, cute, even seductive. I mean, how can ya not give the kid an ear?
He doesn’t like this bit of writing. Fuck him. I’ll post it anyway.
Why not speak in code? So many ways to say so little.
A bottle wrapped in a bag results in a bag shaped like a bottle. All the words make clear the shape of what isn’t be talked about.
I’m trying to say nothing these days, so I can glide invisibly, and weave my way through, a mackerel in shark water.
Your past is clean garbage
We can be rag pickers and pull interesting things out of it
The day 40 Aprils ago that put such a twist in your circuitry
That woman at the car wash
The time a firefly landed on the tip of your nose
Why you love pancakes
We can pick your garbage
But stay the hell out of mine.
At his end he was far down his personal hill.
The struggle for hope and something decent takes a toll, as dreams dry up and mistakes pile up. Crying to no one but yourself in the kitchen. How to get through ‘til bedtime.
Remind us of our duty, which is serve and protect. To recognize what is right, kind and merciful, and then do exactly that, regardless of what came before or comes after.
There are ever hills to climb.
There is a clock in here
It’s ticking again
It could be a bomb I fear
Counting from ten
When it’s zero
We’ll either wake up or explode
Ah! Just three seconds left
So soon we’ll know…
The news is presented by handsome people. But the news is ugly. And so often sad.
Who would sniff a flower that looks like shit but smells of newly remembered old love?
It’s not the flowers. It’s the nature of the ground and the gardener.
Dangerous country you shouldn’t be in it again you were in it before and it did you no good and now you’re back and looking for that lost house you left your things in only now it’s more hidden than it was and the woods crawl with teeth and claws
“People die easier than some promises and some dreams”
That’s what’s on the sign post that’s miles behind you now
Where do you go when it rains?
Do you find a nook somewhere, a branch, an overhang?
Are you by yourself or with others?
Do you count the minutes, and is it excruciating?
I’ll bet you merely sit somewhere, and wait, and watch, and the rain
goes as it comes
Barely noticed, just a thing that happens when it happens
It’s over now—you get a drink or take a bath
A puddle is good enough
I stand outside, looking for you
Looking for the simplicity of you
Everything rains on me
I wish I could wait, and watch
But what I see is the passing of the time that is left
And the water that spoils it
I was enough
Was was was
The younger me, blind and ignorant in the moment, was sufficient. Generous. Transcendent. Charming.
Today I’m less
Less is not more
I’ve shrunk against your yardstick
And you know it
And measure me every chance you get
Between what I am and what I’m not is the problem
It’s never the measuring, is it?
Today the plumbing came alive and tried to kill me.
You wouldn’t think a toilet would be so angry, but I suppose someone sitting on you and crapping into your open mouth… it would piss me off.
The drain system was fed up. “You guys do too much laundry and I’m caked up with soap and grease.. and use different tolet paper. I hate that quilted shit.”
We try our best, but… you are plumbing, you know. And we are not, uh… “drain whisperers” that can lean over a vent, listen intently, and then sigh sadly: “Much pain… much upset… much build-up… years of having to take it, in whatever form was dished out…”
Well, said the drain system, in the smart house of the future, we are going to have a voice. We’ll tell you what’s going on. You’ll be in a meeting, and you’ll get a text from us: There is a floater in upstairs Kohler Flushmatic. Press 1 if you wish us to take care of Number 2.
Later, plumbing calmed down, and let me do the dishes and the wash. After I hired a masseuse for $300 to give the drain system a happy ending.