The death toll continues to rise. My friends
displaced. Trees destroyed part of Kerry’s house
but everyone is safe. I’d like to get a dog
as long as it would never die. Today: the clouds
like a tattoo. Wanda believed she was going
to get better. For weeks after her death
packages arrived in the mail—all things she’d
ordered before she was on hospice:
a vegetable steamer, a juicer, a new healthy life.

#

Weddings & funerals in the span of a week.
Each year, the family grows & shrinks.
I search the classifieds for a new job,
a new place to live, a change. This happens
every two to three years, but I imagine
three years from now I’ll be too old to keep
this up. I should settle down, start a family, 
do all those things that people once
expected from me. Basically, give up.

#

Listening to a radio program called
“Living with the Blues.” If I could survive
here, with these simple wants, I’d be happy.
I just want to listen to music, read books,
eat food, drink beer & occasionally whiskey,
dance, and travel, see my friends & spend
my time with you. It sounds like I’m fifteen,
believing this could actually be possible.
The Idiot’s Guide to Living.

#

Last day of April. Early morning sun,
open windows & birdsong. Saturday quiet
as the city sleeps in. Momentary stillness.
A cup of coffee & a book equals peace.
At least right now. The temporariness of it all
doesn’t matter. True spring on the horizon.
The mistake of placing hope in seasons,
to look forward to the days to come &
expect things to be better.