A Poem a Day: a Series – Day 43

Day 43: “Couch Time”

Sleeping on the couch

Is a simple pleasure

Lay your head back

Put up your feet

Listen to the tv as you fade

Fade

Fade

Not quite asleep

Definitely not awake

A dreamtime escape

It’s comfy

Yet uncomfortable

You’ve got everything you need

Once you’re gone

In dream land

You awake with a start

And realize you haven’t even been asleep 20 minutes

Your eyes start to close again

Just 20 more minutes

And then you’ll actually head to bed

It’s morning

A Poem a Day: a Series – Day 41

Day 41: “Gen Z Existentialism”

No one ever told me

that you can get acne in your 20s

Nobody told me

that being an adult is never ending tiredness

No one told me

that everyone is performing and nothing is real

No one said, “hey,

we’re sorry we made the world a terrible place”

No one ever told me

that it’s okay to take a break

Nobody told me

my younger me was right about a lot of things

No one said, “hey,

you’re cool” and meant it

No one ever told me

that my mascara smudged on my eye

And that’s fucked up

A Poem a Day: a Series – Day 40

Day 40: “Feelings of Happiness”

The fall feels like Christmas to me

which feels like happiness

so does watching “You’ve Got Mail” any time but especially at Christmastime

and so does watching “Practical Magic” in October

and “One Tree Hill” and “Gilmore Girls” in September through early December

New York City when I was younger felt like taking a full breath

and strutting down the street

in a rom com

after you met the love of your life

now, it still feels that way but less naive

like the end of “How to Be Single” when she tells the taxi driver she wants to go home and he says, “I don’t know where you live, lady!”

Reading on a rainy day

listening to the thunder and seeing the lightning

feels like summer growing up

and like watching “Twilight”

and like reading “The Hunger Games” for the first time

and then watching it for the first time in theaters

jumping when the mutts chased Katniss and Peeta through the arena toward the cornucopia

A sunny morning walk

feels like Sunday

making pancakes

and cuddling

a trip to a coffee shop

walking by a park filled with dogs

like listening to “Banana Pancakes” by Jack Johnson

and “A Sunday Kind of Love” by Etta James

and “Sunday Morning” by Maroon 5

Watching snow fall

feels like being a child again

beautiful

peaceful

like listening to “Don’t Know Why” by Norah Jones

like I’ll get to miss school tomorrow

Those are all things that make me

unbelievably

and irrevocably

happy

I love that feeling

I wish it was the fall

Don’t you just love New York in the fall?

A Poem a Day: a Series – Day 39

Day 39: “Manifestation”

When I was 8

my ex-stepsister (at the time she was my stepsister, but she’s not anymore)

had a stuffed cat that was curled into a sleeping ball

the cat was brown with black markings

and when you put batteries in it,

it breathed

its stomach would rise and fall

and it would purr

I loved that thing

When I was 9

I heard a kitten crying in our tree out front

I waited

and finally

she ran out from under to the house next door

she had beautiful black markings

part bengal, we found out later

I fed her and my ex-stepdad (he was my stepdad at the time, but he’s not anymore)

said we could keep her

Now she’s 14

living with me and my partner

when I feel lonely

I cuddle with her

and lay my head on her stomach as it rises and falls with her breath

and she purrs

that’s what peace feels like

then she gets annoyed with me

and gets up to leave me

but first,

I hug her

and kiss her

and tell her I love her

A Poem a Day: a Series – Day 37

Day 37: “Stuck”

Grieving the living

Is its own kind of fuckery

A younger me

Remembers the good

The fun

And how to survive

How to placate

How to not cause problems

The older me

Has had the veil removed from my eyes

Knows the ways he affected me

Knows the pain

Can label the fear

But can hear his voice

Invalidating me

And the way he affected me

Making me the bad guy

But the scary part is

Part of me believes him

A Poem a Day: a Series – Day 35

Day 35: “The Me’s That Are Me”

There’s sleepy me

And awake me

Not to be confused with tired me

Or alert me

There’s the me that is happy

The me that is sad

Not to be confused with excited me

Or melancholic me

There’s ready me

And planner me

Go go go me

And steady me

There’s upbeat me

And nervous me

Not to be confused with positive me

Or anxious me

Right now I’m sleepy me

I wonder what me I’ll be in the morning