Friday, March 11, 2011


There is a purity to a slate gray sky on a late Tuesday afternoon in March
Coming home to an empty house and only bills in the mail
Realizing that clothes and dishes both need washing
And there’s nothing much in the fridge
Best to make a cup of tea, perhaps with honey added this one time
The house is chilly, but not so that the heater should be turned on
It seems darkness will come soon though somehow not soon enough
There is a wonderfully empty feeling that can be filled in so many ways
There’s that book to finish reading and a movie that could be watched
True chores are beckoning, but they’ll wait, at least until after the tea
How about some dry toast to go with it, would certainly suit the day
The phone rings but it is of course a wrong number
Take the trash out and note the stillness outside as if everything else is dead
The whole world looks oddly faded
Back in the house there is a hesitation about turning on the lights
There’s something about the bleakness that one doesn’t want to tamper with
As if it is appropriate for the time
Yes the time
Then the silence broken by the wail of an ambulance -- befitting
Odd this feeling of satisfied depression, of not being quite sure of anything
A purgatory of mind and light and mood like the opening credits to a Bergman film
Stomach starts to hurt, then stops, not even the body is sure
My God this is the polar opposite of that July 4th picnic when I....
But let’s not think about that now, it would only make matters worse
Perchance to shake this ennui and breath deeply again
No more living lightly, let’s make this moment meaningful

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