In the woods
it is a fallen tree.
On the toilet
it has an entirely different meaning.
In the woods
it is a fallen tree.
On the toilet
it has an entirely different meaning.
Scraping the butter
Before you can use it for your toast.
Leaving the pajamas on for extra insulation
While getting dressed for the day.
Wishing there was snow
So you could complain about it.
Realizing that all these concerns
Are petty when you see a homeless person walk by.
Wishing you could crawl back into bed
Not just for the warmth, but shame at your selfishness.
Lost in a daydream.
Working up an appetite.
Crying for forgiveness.
Flush with a promise.
Hope instilled.
Until tomorrow surfaces
and shows a new face to fall on.
Cars are a luxury
many of us willing use.
Our roads and highways demand them.
Yet, where do they all go when not being driven?
After they are parked,
How do we get them back out?
Car park hell.
It could be more costly to run though.
But I am curious as to what puzzles would be procured.
Divorce the in-laws.
Trash the garbage bags.
Kitty litter smells.
Dump the scraps for the birds.
Re-usable?
Only if someone else likes dirt.
You open the door.
Stare intently in.
The door closes.
You open the cupboard.
Peer quizzically at the cans.
The cupboard door swings shut.
You open the fridge door again.
Nothing has changed.
Same food sits on the shelves.
Magic is not real.
The fridge just makes us wish it was.
The light reminds us of our disappointment.
I choose to pick her up.
I choose to walk through the room.
In her fear my hand was clawed.
It was my fault.
Not hers.
Physical pain is imminent.
Yet, what destroys more cruelly
is the words that cut you deeper
than you thought physically possible.
Stress re-enacts the moments.
The memories.
The people involved make the situation recur.
No way to get away.
Fear finds you wherever you go.
A man’s house is his castle.
A woman’s bedroom is his brothel.
Why do we tolerate this?