Must

This day and I

Are trying to meet somewhere in the middle

And I am having a difficult time keeping up

My end of the deal.

The day presents itself benignly

Despite what attributions I give it.

It is rainy and cold.  So what, it might say?

If I was a judge I would find you guilty 

Of malicious precipitation, say I.

But there are no back room deals to be had here

So make of it what you can.

Keep your grip.  You must, must, 

The chorus of mothers’ cautions.

I do offer in my defense 

The school dream from the night before,

Classic and chaotic:

I can’t find my clothes, can’t seem to deal with

Putting on my pants

And I’m late, White Rabbit late.

Funny, haha

But it doesn’t feel that way.

And it sets an anxious tone

One that spawns from mind and marrow

And grips me too and won’t let go.

It does damage to the deal.

No it won’t let go

Nor will it come clear,

It is slightly repellent

Yet I hold it dear.

But why?!

A shower will not scrub it off

Coffee will not change its pace.

Food fails

Friends flounder
And the waitress looks at me
As if to say
Sir, you seem quite insane,
As I ask for pepperoni toast
Instead of pumpernickel.

My only response to her unspoken truth
Is to over tip
(Such acts might seem quite normal?)
And seek the answer from the lesson
Elsewhere being taught
In my murky middle.

It’s right there I’d like to think.
It’s right there.