The Same, Simple

“We don’t want to believe what we know.”     Yann Arthos-Bertrand

I want each day to be the

            Same, simple,

No surprising, No spontaneous me,

Raweno, no, no, no more, Walt.

I can’t see past the needling pain

            Anyway, no way,

Each day, some a little more numb,

Some not, whatever.

Takes five tries to button something

Sometimes, but always shirts,

Velcro flapped sneakers in top

            Five on my shopping list.

Don’t need a plot device now, that’s

            Passed, just lasting

Is enough, it seems, I mean,

            Really, at this age?

All gold-plated goals, crumbled

            To rust and dust,

All people ties and smiles to

            Reap company,

All plastic manners and fans

            And mini-steps,

End in the same mornings’

            Struggles just to move.

So how do we put a smile

            On these days?

You know, what the hopeful preach

Profanely, insipidly, endlessly.

At least look back at all

            The lives you touched,

They say, with just the slightest

            Wink and sneer.

That’s not same, simple, is it?

            (see above)

That’s a road better not taken

            Still, yes, still.

But recall seeps in mostly

            To wonder too,

To wanly pose the question

            What if only…

What if only he had, (that he

            Yes, he back then)

What if he had chosen his want,

            And not his hav-tas,

His dreaming, seaming, maybe

            And not the world?

So you see, even when you know

            You shouldn’t,
You see this is what becomes

            Of thinking,

Of making same and simple

            More and “better”

Of self-absorbed conjuring over

            The loss of time.

And, of course, that’s all

            It is.