Dreamt a girl I talk to
got married and I wanted
to text her
but didn't
because I read a book
that said people
who focus on fantasies
are less happy than people
who focus
on reality.
and she is a daydream.
two days ago I was down
but it came out irritated
and angry. So onward
to what's real and
what's really mine.
Like
nails painted Robin egg blue with gold flecks
now that I don't bite them.
hands unbloody, not hurting
a cat who sleeps on my head
like he is hatching an egg
solving New York Times puzzles
in the morning
to get my brain going
sleeping soundly most nights
writing down whats happened
and what I hope will happen
in the someday
far off like a rain cloud
10% chance of rain
new moons and full moons
changing seasons
Children dipping French fries
into a milkshake for the first time
shared with me by a friend
when there were years
we didn't speak
and I can't go a day without
saying something to her
blessings.
buying stupid silly little things
I don't need.
but can afford
and want.
a fridge so full
in the kitchen
it looks like the fridges
I only saw in other people's
houses.
Asking ChatGPT
if my poetry is well-written.
Analyze me, please.
He...she...it...says
select works are technically good.
I'm on the fence about a.i.
till it compliments me for three paragraphs.
chest puffed out like a dove cooing
struting by the highway.
learning and mastering skills
which I was told were unattainable
by whom I cannot recall
them like their opinion
not note worthy.
Vintage cartoons in the background
with all the un-PC stuff, unsanitized,
unflinching. how I pretend to be
sometimes and sometimes am.
reading a classic novel
from the late 1800's
and seeing how much
I've already known was pulled from it.
nothing's original and it gives me hope.
that I can be tired and cliche and old
but treated good and new
with proper repackaging.
I want to proclaim my reading
to show people I not only can
but do regularly read.
interesting stuff even.
I'm interesting.
I'm smart even if I don't show it.
really. I probably am cool.
but no one sees it.
maybe it's ok maybe it's good
to be cool just for me
and no one else.
probably better.
a day off of work
and I don't check email
followed by a day off work
but I do check my email.
failing at washing the dogs because
they run and I won't chase.
Thank God I'm not ten years younger
not stressing over all the people,
places, things I can't control.
not spinning my gears over
someone who does NOT give a shit about me.
even when they shit everyday and flush it away
and really I think it wouldn't be
hard to give out their shit
seems they could spare a square
of course that a pop culture reference and
if my head's out of my ass
long enough
I might see less shit
maybe none at all
like what the fuck was I crying about
two days ago
when there's really real problems out there
starvation and war and dead babies
blood and fires in streets
babies will die before they touch a French fry
and never see a milkshake, but me?
I have
calm, drama-free days back to back
with little crafts thrown in-between
being in love with all my friends
sending them little gifts in mail
remembering she's dead before
I remember he's dead.
tears can be healing medicine
I learned that when
my husband ate my tears once
right off my face in a small side room
we were alone this was
years ago before we were married
he said he didn't know why he did it
but he had to and he ate my hurt
made it his for a day.
one finger, one tear, one mouth.
we both felt healed.
Today, I set up his new phone
cooked a meal he really likes
put fresh sheets on the bed
and he says he's a happy boy
gosh this is actually nice.
it's not what I don't have
but all that I do.
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