IF ONLY I COULD ACT THAT WAY
In the supermarket, a toddler
in ephemeral anguish
screams, disrupts my hasty
produce- taking. One need —
a sip of juice, a cookie,
an anything. Fix this mess,
the child pleads. One of us
could respond, I figure,
while I hold a not-ripe avocado.
Recognize the genuine child,
forget yielding, grow replete.
— This is a poem I wrote a ton of time ago that tonight I revised. The photo of me and Ellie probably doesn’t exactly go with the poem, but that’s okay, too, because it also, kind of, does. Also, I’ve been taking this blog, or anything, too seriously which means things need to be perfect which they’ll never be which means I don’t post anything which means I’m not as happy as I could be which is foolish.
SAVOR 