Too tired to write (really)
May 13th, 2009 § Leave a Comment
It’s late. I didn’t get to bed until 3:30 AM last night. And I drove 200 miles and worked hard today. So I’m too tired to write. Really. Too tired to write. And yet, here I am. Writing.
I missed Mother’s Day last Sunday. It completely caught me by surprise. I thought it was a week away, so I didn’t order flowers or buy a card since I had time. Not really. I had my dates screwed up. And I never did speak with my mother in person when I called a few times that day. I hope she had a nice one.
What should I do about it? Should I obsess, stress-test or process a bit less? I don’t know. I’m really tired. Too tired really to write. And yet. I write.
You’d think someone like me — tired and old — would just hang up his hat and stop this tap-tap-tip-tap crap. But I can’t. It’s late. I’m tired. And I should be getting ready for bed. But something about the glow of my iMac in the kitchen has me rapt. I can’t escape it. Waning self-control. Writing feels better than fighting it: the regret, the pain of knowing I could have written something, anything, if only I’d start.
There. I did it. And now, a little off-the-cuff poetic meter to please the muse:
Standing in line
I spotted the guy a mile away
his face wrinkled and red in the summer sun
the real deal for all to see
with all the watching I was doing
you’d think everyone else would’ve joined in
But it didn’t go that way
I spotted a guy who works hard for the money
his face told me things his lips never would
or was I dreaming? No. There he was. (Right there.)
I witnessed him. No one seemed to notice.
Ruddy. Wrinkled. Sexy-as-fuck.
What was I doing looking so long and hard at a man like that?
Was I expecting reciprocation?
Something to tell my friends?
Not really.
I wanted him to see me.
And when he did look my way,
Time. Stopped. Just-like-that.
I wanted that moment to last forever
and for a few seconds, it did.
He was gone.
I collected my thoughts,
littering the ground
like so many things
once cherished,
now scattered underfoot.
