The sun is up.

I know this from the

illuminated window shade.

Loud engines of old vehicles

shake me with their message

of unknown people

pursuing unknown daily agendas.

I am restless in bed — more

evidence that the night is giving way.

All surroundings indicate

the arrival of a day…

yet no day emerges.

 

Her hurt feelings are

everywhere I look

traveling my visual pathways

overwhelming my brain.

 

The ice in our driveway = our frozen

channels of communication, the

solidification of past misunderstandings.

The old spider web behind the washer

is our faith, in disrepair & unused.

The dog’s sad posture on the floor

reminds me of how I must now

appear, my confusion certainly obvious,

floundering without the focus of

my life.  A shell of what was there

when her love was mine.  And the

world made sense.

 

And mercilessly soon

my other senses pickup the chorus.

 

My coffee tortures my nostrils

with stirred memories (with Kahlua)

of wonderful Sun. mornings

gone by.

When our dreams were strong.

When I wanted to live forever.

 

And the clock ticks on and on,

without thought…

to remind me of the stubbornness

of my ways

and my insensitivity to its

effects upon the one I love.

 

Events continue to occur

as if a day were progressing

but they are deceiving me.

For I know that a day

is 24 hours during which I

can convince myself that

she cares.

A time period in which I

am treated to her smile.

By definition.

 

And so it is not a day

but simply a wasteland

–Anonymous