Paper or Plastic?

Aisles and aisles
of choices
and echoing voices
from yesterday
today
and my grandchildren’s tomorrow.

Fat-free joy?
Or whole-grain sorrow?

Just the thought of it
could cause a young man indigestion.

So many questions.
So many options.
So many decisions
to make
or unmake.

Flavor.
Brand.
Quantity.

And is any of it quality?

I’ve got
cash and quarters in my pocket
and a purse full of plastic.

So many ways to pay for my indecision!

I’m not even in line yet
but I’m counting the eggs in my basket
to see if I can get into the fast lane.

But wait—
they’re not organic!
Go back and grab the ones that say
cruelty free.

But now the cost has changed
and the tally is off
and I can’t remember if I’m supposed to be
looking out for me
or for you
or for the mother of my dozen eggs.

I look in my cart
and none of it makes sense.

I have no idea what I came here for.

Un-Named

An unquiet mind
festers in my skull
and silently drives me insane.

I want to be numb
and dumb
while sucking my thumb
and denying the blood in my veins.

Is it a feeling?
A lifestyle?
A personality trait?

Stillborn fetus
without a name.

Poet

Am I a poet because I write this?
Am I a poet because you read this?
No.
I am a poet because
I breathe this.

Mental To-Do Lists

•The heaviest

invisible

•burdens

•that ever

did not

•exist.

Hide and Seek

I can run faster than my fear.
He’ll never find me here!

Plus, he’s got heavy feet
so I can always hear him coming.
And then I just start running
again.

It’s funny though,
he never really gives chase.
He just keeps his slow, ominous pace,
always undeniably in my direction.

I look over my shoulder
and he’s out of sight.

I’ve lost him.

Time to hide now
and live my life
where he’ll never find me.

Sometimes we hide
in the most obvious places,
hoping that the first place
will be the last that they look.

So I find myself
under the dining room table
shielding my face
with the tablecloth lace,
convinced that this is the life,
this is the view,
I have always wanted.

My fear is gone.

But the stench of a lie
is deceivingly strong
and fear can smell this
from continents away.

He’s at the table now.
He calmly crouches down.
And for the first time
we are face to face.

His eyes are hollow
and he waits for me to speak.

What do you want from me!?

Without a word
he crawls under the table
behind the lace
and sits by my side.

I guess we’re all looking for
somewhere to hide.

Static Inaction

I am plagued by ambivalence—
by simultaneous desires
to move in
multiple
opposite
directions.

Not to be confused with
apathy:
the absence of desire
and/or
the desire of absence
of any direction.

Yet they both manifest as
static inaction
and lead to the same stranded fate—
frozen in my tracks,
withering in wait.

Waiting for the answer.
Or waiting to negate.

Just waiting for the world
to pull me to my fate.