Things to Do on Tuesday

Start car. Drive.
Get caught in traffic jam.
Stop. Go. Stop. Go.

Do not look at traffic psychos.
Do not scream road rage.
Roll up windows. Lock doors.

Stop.

Park. Walk.
Wait for elevator.

“Hello, Hello,
Good Morning.
I’m fine.
How are you?”

Get off at third floor.
See friend you love
but are unable to connect
across the vast gulf of building,
the daily drivel, these false shadows
passing between you make a soup
of fog too thick to cross.

Must be time for lunch.

Eat. Sit at computer.
Tap, tap, tap.

Go to meeting. Be important
or not. Curl away from the artillery.
Say a prayer.
Next time it might be me.

Tap, tap, tap

Three o’clock. Staying calm.
Drink cold water, yawn, stretch,
go to bathroom.

Five o'clock. Drive home.
Stop. Go. Stop. Go.

Stop.

Home. Dinner.
Pay a bill. Fight about money.
Clean a spill, read a story,
give a bath, call Mother,
kiss a boo-boo.

Ten o'clock. Get in bed.
Think about how much
I love that bed. The sheets and pillows
so soft. Compromising.

Open a book. Dive in
to watery, refreshing words.
Remember my name,
remember I am and willingly, willingly
lose myself
in someone else’s thoughts,
float through their world.

Someone says

“Aren’t you ever going to turn off
the light?”

And I do.
And I try to sleep.