You've made a proper fool of me
Saturday, 02-20-10
Waking up at 7am with the typical morning headaches.
Shower, dressed, Same blue jeans, Different black tunic.
Borrowed Treble Clef. Stolen? Borrowed.
Just enough time for black coffee, and black and white keys.
Some more snowfall, the Jesus mobile is obscured.
Heated, cleared, driving through a snow globe.
Work, quiescent, a different kind of snow globe.
Strangers, contacts, telephone bandits.
Maddening ring, singing inconvenience.
Distressed, perplexed, furthermore vexed.
Why tell me, when I hadn't asked?
It distracts, and plagues the psyche
Consider Law of action, and of reaction.
Fundamental interaction, a subtraction,
Of you, and your distorted, contorted,
Sour, and vile, feign lemon smile.
Why tell me, when I hadn't asked.
It distracts, and plagues the psyche.
The day is closing, the snow is melting around me.
As if mother nature shattered her creation.
Revealing what was only a dream in a snow dome.
Crawling into bed with the image of you somewhere else.
Not here beneath disco balls, unraveling spaghetti straps.
The possibility, a theory, no longer being considered.
Not here, but light years away.
Sunday, 02-21-10
Waking up, at 9am with the typical morning headaches.
And of course a side order of dull prolonged stomach ache.
I'll have the same please, black coffee, and cigarettes.
Looking back, at what transpired. Life? A dream? It happens.
Pondering, considering, the most efficient way to forget.
Checking the mail, I recall, with a genuine smile.
Laughter.
© Carla, 2011
