in shared life its easy to take unconscious advantage its easy to want/wish to selfishly squirrel away spare moments as we grab onto them for dear life.. in those seconds when we untangle from rent generating portions on this plane we separate and compartmentalize slivers of time … we fall into precious isolating create a new necessary time from the essential survival requirements that are the trappings of money-making day-to-day journeys… some are lucky enough to have been born with it by having their security tucked away to fall back on a tidy little trust from momma & poppa a handy little inheritance borne from the family name a right-place-at the right time a silicone valley score of millions bringing the luck of retirement in your twenties a winning lotto ticket or anything else that makes working for a living a simple sport you take on to pass the time, instead of the grind you endure to keep the roof … the rest of us squeeze and drain the life out of everyday often wondering how sleep in-between became the greatest of all time-wasters the one commodity we don’t have enough time for
in shared life after years and years sensations on the tongue fade smell and taste fall short we thin out and separate strands of us meld together become a shared name spewed out of the mouths of those who know us we watch, as our separate identities fade… we too get lost in relationship squeeze us in between the hour of this and that fall into routine of hours: work/ get home/ make food/ watch tv/read /sleep repeat we fold in film and dvr tape what we cannot watch fill weekends with dinners and movie houses socialize with friends and attend events so we feel like we’re actually cramming in a little living between the hours of dying we save too much to cram in for later then repeat saving sparks and once-bright moments for later then watch them die and burn out later as we try to save each other for later too
don’t set a clock by me i cannot be the timepiece attached to routine’s arm rigidity and order as comfort or steadiness takes away my breath rolls me away down hills once packed rock-solid that mode of orderly time loosens my hinges brings on dreams of faraway places taken solo and sweetened with drops of isolation … it robs me of my ability to converse but happily entrenches me further into this art that matters often more than the art and beauty balance/ damage and beauty of us …
with communication staunched schedules and boarding passes easily print out on dizzying storyboards while dreams of one- way tickets on the shut-down express come closer to true ..
relationship with another human requires maintenance re-engineering constant re-engineering go it alone or do the work re-design re-engineer rekindle determine its worth aviod the ease of laziness and re-engineer the years/the work/ the spark/the heat that got you and got you there in the first place
I vote for Lindalou for Poet Laureate of the US. Really. She speaks for all of us who struggle with just staying alive, just being loved and loving, just doing our best on our way to the end. But she also gives us a way out. Except we must do the work, not wait for someone to do it for us.