It's painful

To see Iranians hurt Iranians.

31

31.
I lay there in my bed, feeling absolutely nothing about the number except that I realized it had a one in it. It was the beginning, the first year. The first year of a decade. Or the second, it depends on how you count it. I chose the first. It was the T1, of the timeline, the start of the calendar. Reset ready to go. You have ten years. Do it right.

Or you don’t. Decades, numbers, we all know they mean nothing. Health is not relative to age. Wisdom is not relative to age.

Instead I am going to choose this day as a marker. There are things I want to do. I will use birthdays to see if I have done them. Maybe next year I won’t care about what I care about today. Maybe next year I will care more.

Lackadaisical

the rain made noise
like an animal scrounging for food
the stream of water
was inconsistent
and lazy
not falling hard enough to make noise
on the metal AC
but not quitting either
so it sounded like a tiny creek
was flowing outside
solitude was infinite
and plentiful

meaning

the white orchid flower
just fell to the ground
it sounded like tissue paper
crinkling as it fell
it was so definitive
like a lover waking up in the middle of the night
finally deciding to leave
i saw that it went yellow earlier today
and sagged like silk
i searched and searched for the way to
save it
make its stem go back to green

the snow has stopped
its large chunks
dove down in diagonals
all day
snow is the only thing
that gets quieter when it hits the ground

I spent 3.23 on a juice today

flashbacks

There are flashbacks of love
A joke and a smile
Flossing my teeth while you sat on the toilet and talked and watched
Conversations in hallways, and kitchen floors
Running up stairways
Standing in elevators
In the corner of a bar
On top of a table dancing
and they are the gifts
of knowing whats its like
to go that far
in love