There is a song

There is a song playing in my head and you can't hear it.
Its an oldie and everyone knows the chorus, but not much more than that. It has been played in movies, comedies and dramas. Right now the chorus is stuck in my ear canal, my esophagus and the edges of my rib bones.

There are many unsent letters. Wishes that never get to people. Strangers that get estranged and I never find a stamp to put on the envelope.

There is an unused tent under my bed.

There is a sweatshirt covering my arms.

There are places in books that when you get there you think, oh this is a bad place.


Perhaps this is what anxiousness is. How will all this come to pass. Without God I would throw the pebble in, walk off the hopscotch and go punch a tether ball. But a funny little voice is telling me that it will be okay. In fact it is okay. Perhaps today you feel as if you accomplished nothing. You can not base your whole life on feelings.

I base my bus choice on feelings. Normandie seemed like such a trafficky straight line home. Dirty bus windows, stuttering buses. Headache.

The 20 seemed a bit more promising. A shorter line, a friendlier place.

Nothing was accomplished.

P.ys.t.g.

Ten things I am thankful for (a discipline)
1. the pretty flowers I bought for the two birthday girls
2. the kind hygienist who by my name thought I was black, and asked me if I was.
3. Joy who gave me a ride home and a hug.
4. My bed.
5. Scrabulous
6. I am alive, breathing, appendages in tact.
7. Hope is a thing with feathers.
8. my hair color
9. anger that makes me clean my room
10. his mercies are new every morning.