duhpursuit

When pressed, we sometimes say what seems best.
The wise men will send Frank, not Frankincense.
Some mornings we wake grasping for what,
a feeling of usefulness, nearly right, but not.
Somehow instead of the phone, the remote
ends up in your purse as though you should note–
the plans for today have changed without knowing.
It’s wise to remember whose pen you have played in.
Remember when you reach for help, you can choose
to silence the laughter or raise up the fools.

I know you watch the roadsides
for that broken-down, aging Delilah,
hoping to answer some fainthearted plea
for help with your car jack, change her
flat tire, and send her off, whistling
into the breeze of traffic having known
some goodness in a moment
of deflated optimism.

the house next door was up for sale, then wasn’t. their trash is piled in a growing mound that looks like trespassers. i catch them fluttering out of the corner of my eye and have to look again to ensure no one is creeping along their rotting fence. their f-ing dog, abandoned, howls all night, and still is mourning when i make coffee. i want to end his miserable moaning, but i use ear plugs instead.

i need: a haircut. to finish the laundry. to grade. clean. cook. i’ve been homesick too, but in a way that makes me wonder if i even know where to find it.