Thursday, December 23, 2004

11 days left

This is the day
This day
This is the day that consistency took a break

This is the day someone got up and gave
a pregnant woman a set on the bus or train

This is the day I was not thinking of you, yet.

This day most people were just a little bit more complacent about security.
A striking bundled-up blonde woman rushed into the ubiquitous corner coffee joint to stand in an a.m. line of 22.

More people drove to work.
Fewer people took lunch.
And about 10% went home early.

I was possibly late for a job that was helpful enough to pay my rent working only 3 months or so of the year.

I paid my rent and my health insurance.
I dreamed of being Angelina Jolie’s abandoned vacation lover.
At 9am you could still make out a ¾ moon over the river, the field, the treetops, Macy’s

Some people read the free morning paper, others paid for the post times news.
A day several professional athletes let people down expectedly.

This day a movie that cost more than the folks have in Tonga was said to be achingly dull yet still was seen by more people than the population of the Republic of Kiribati.

A guy in an elevator, hallway, lobby was listening to music too loudly, but several people did not notice as they were listening to their own personal soundtracks.

This day two people saw each other across the street and nodded continuing along to where they were headed.

You bought me a gift that I had told you I wanted.
The day all things yellow disappeared, just for a flash.

This was a day without many surprises.

Only 1 person attempted to walk on water.

And in a curious act of faith a woman sewed a picture of a longhaired white Jesus on to the back of jean jacket.

A lot of money was made by a few people at the expense of others.

This is the day you did it.

More lights were lit, stayed on late, and electric bills soared.

You forgot some things, like your piano teacher’s dogs name,
but did not tell me.
A man and a woman were tossed from a dive bar for smoking
in the boys’ room at 3 a.m. and never would fondle again.

My brother realized something essential about sponges that he would not tell anyone for 17 days.

This is the day the wind blew cold on the face of everyone who walked west.
People avoided going west, if they could.

A new soft drink, shoe, personal electronic device, genetic discovery was revealed and improved the life of some, but not many, instantly

This day an actor cried.
You returned a few calls and several emails,
though you found emails more impersonal.
People read, ate, died, drove, climbed, ran, worked,
slept too long and missed an interview, smiled and laughed.

Words were written.
I forgot 5 or more things that could have made this better.

Dogs messed up the sidewalks of the city. Some of it was picked up.

The day the trash increased.
The produce mister at the super market misted every hour

This day it was cold so we held each other tight and hoped that what we hoped would be the same or at least very complementary.

The barley mushroom soup was too hot.
This is the day you used 2 gallons of water to brush your teeth—times 2.

You had fresh breath 47% of the day.
You kissed me.

I wondered if this was too much to put in a card.

Wednesday, December 01, 2004

Necklace II

The charm he gave you hangs about your neck like the stench of piss applied coat over coat down the leg of an abused mental patient praying to Judas.

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