Friday, March 9, 2012

To do list?

You know those times when you have a dozen things to do and some free time to actually get them done? That's when I look outside and see a poem sneaking by the window, reaching for the doorknob.

It's those times when I know I should be doing something that ultimately has little importance; that's when I find poetry to be a welcome excuse, a stealer of time for whom I conveniently leave the gate unlatched. Here’s my latest little thief.

The Breakup

In the grass under this bench
lies only the lead-tip end
of a broken pencil.
The eraser end is nowhere to be found.

What happened, I wonder,
to split such an indivisible pair?
Did an angry author force their divorce?
Or was it a mutual breakup?

Or perhaps, the lead had gotten sick
of its partner’s second guessing,
back-stepping behavior.
Maybe the lead had finally had enough.

I’ll bet it slammed the door
with its backpack slung across its shoulder
and set off to live a new life –
a life free of the eraser’s constant regret.

I’m sure that somewhere the eraser
is sitting alone, curled up on a wooly patchwork sofa,
longing for the company of its ex –
the pencil lead who is now bounding through
the tall blades of grass beneath this park bench.

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