This morning I made breakfast
Pickled red onions
Deep cleaned the kitchen
Watered plants
And continued reading
Girl with a Pearl Earring—
I guess this is life in my 30’s.
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This morning I made breakfast
Pickled red onions
Deep cleaned the kitchen
Watered plants
And continued reading
Girl with a Pearl Earring—
I guess this is life in my 30’s.
Is there fear in your excitement
like a newly unearthed coffin
You can see it from a distance
like a nearsighted eye witness
It comes creeping through the window
you left open while you sleep
Like an unsuspecting victim
you roll over just to see
There’s a shadow in the doorway
sending shivers down your spine
Like a child on a big wheel
cup your hands over your eyes
When you finally build the courage
to admit you’ve lost your mind
There’s just air and heavy breathing
feels like you’ve got the shine
Now you’re choked up glass of water
who left on the kitchen light
And you swear there’s no one listening
still you check the corner twice
Cause it’s somewhere between 3 and 4
the hour’s devil’s prime
It’s the fear in your excitement
in the background of your mind
Monday morning tired pouring
rain falls cold upon your head
It’s a new day maybe Tuesday
I’ll sleep soundly when I’m dead
Wednesday Thursday afternoon
blurs into Friday I’m still wet
From the tears of Saturday’s gone by
Sunday’s a day of rest?
So don’t fight it just accept it
that to fall asleep is hard
When your dreams feel like the raven
and your mind a tell-tale heart
There’s a shrill cry in the alley
that you wish now to explore
It just proves that other’s trauma
spreads itself like works of art.
Saturday morning
woke me up
scratching and sour.
Then I wrecked my pants
feeling lousy, still
I went to my workshop
estranged from the world
yet there in that room
among strangers
who some
I call friends
I felt
Inspired
& well
Happy
So we told our stories
and while listening to Avi read about
Bob in a shipyard explosion
all that other stuff just kind of
went away.
I hear the voice of a little girl.
Exterminator! Exterminator!
She’s maybe nine years old.
I answer the door.
She walks in holding a clipboard.
Her father follows.
He’s smiling.
He knows me.
We do this every second Saturday of the month.
“Please sign,” she says authoritatively.
Her father makes his rounds.
“Thank you,” she says.
I hand her a dollar.
She adds it to the clipboard.
Her father exits the kitchen.
“I no use near food…” he says with regard.
They leave.
Exterminator! Exterminator!
Y escribi este poema.