A little rain right now will suit my mood –
a little overcast, a dose of chill.
A shot of wet will rinse my solitude,
and coincide with flagging. I’m not ill,
but I could use some time that won’t include
a passle of beloveds, or a bill
of fare as rich as I’ve had recently.
The sky and I might clear by half past 3.
I’m not a good triangulation point.
I really don’t do subtext very well.
I have a role, but no one did anoint
me as a messenger. I cannot tell
them how to act. My counsel doesn’t spell
as magic, cure or oracle. I’ll teach
myself instead, and hope my thoughts impel
a modulation of familial speech.
Reducing carbs has certainly produced
increase in health, decrease in weight and girth.
The pleasure so derived – esteem now loosed –
is generating private bouts of mirth.
But here’s the lesson learned, for what it’s worth –
as true of GLP’s as “self-control” –
the user must continue, from the birth
of change to death, the way she chose to roll.
You comment you can be yourself with me.
I took those words to heart like a bouquet.
I watered them for hours mentally,
and as they blossomed, feel the urge to say:
“My friend, your mirror’s tarnished, if you see
an image that looks other than okay.
You’re not desilvered. If I may be bold,
you’ve sterling qualities, more good than gold.”
“You shouldn’t feel that way,” she said again,
a phrase I’ve borne and failed to understand
lifelong. (I recollect I heard it when
attempting to express emotions fanned
by friend or school). Before age 9 or 10
I learned she scorned my poetry; she planned
a life as tactical for me as hers.
Rejecting her examples honed my spurs.
October morning walk to H’s place,
while taking in the Halloween decor,
inhabiting the here-and-now, in case
I need to be alert for something more,
I’m ready to submit this aging face
to unguents luxurious and pure,
and grateful for the weather nearly warm.
Next time (December) I’ll contend with storm.
Why stay alive when nothing prospers you?
When you’re no longer able to disperse
your energy in mundane tasks you threw
upon your list; or pluck from out your purse
the coins you sought to save to spend on few;
when you engage refusal and rehearse
four petulant complaints of nothing new?
Why wake this week, to demonstrate no tact
and hurt the hearts with whom you interact?
We’ve pros and cons at any age, and yet
the decade I would call the worst to date
has got to be the 5th. Did you forget
the multitasking brooking no debate?
The loss of will or skill to stay up late?
Diminished stamina, uncertain time?
The start of body aches that don’t abate,
besetting what all claim should be your prime?
From half past dawn till nearly noon, the peace
was fractured by responsibility.
The tones of power washing didn’t cease,
and every pane was polished visibly.
The next event did nothing to decrease
the obligations – scheduled dentistry
is necessary but uncomfortable.
With costly elements, my plate was full.
Construction paper, tape and scissors small
enough for them and usable by me,
assembled on the table I’ll recall
and reinforce with pix and poetry.
Instructed by 3rd grade authority,
a 4 year-old and I each made a card.
We followed his directions happily,
compatibly, in sync and not on guard.
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