Doing It

I’m writing these words on my Dynex

keyboard I bought for $19.95 plus tax

five years ago, (I kept the receipt

because it doesn’t work

very well)

wondering why I have to look at the keys

for words like “larynx” or “sasquatch”.

 

Maybe you know what its like,

writing.

Reminding yourself that you feel good

when you’re doing it,

when you’ve done it,

when you’re doing it good,

like holding open a door

like you’re parents taught you to.

 

My parents didn’t teach me to write,

especially not for women.

 

They did teach me to hold open doors for women.

I hold them open

for women.

 

maybe you know what its like,

when the late AM

Rips at your throat out

like velcro.

 

Maybe you know what its like

loading and unloading

dishwashers,

laundry machines,

toilet bowls.

The hazard bucket at the end of the hall.

 

At some point we all have our seventh day

in the long week.

The inhale

raising fast like nuclear fish.

 

Maybe you know what its like

to step out into January

like a tremendous virgin

 

with ten pounds of cold water

clinging to

the soles of your slippers.

 

Maybe you know what its like

to be cold,

like that.

Maybe your hands can’t reach the “V” key

without first knowing where your “C” and “B” is.

 

Maybe you’re working AM and PM

without a woman

or slippers.

or keyboards.

 

Maybe you have children,

or crippling debt,

or Herpes.

 

Maybe you know what it’s like

doing it

for someone else.

 

Doing it

to do it

to do it

to do it.

 

Until it’s done.