what it is now.

tick-tocking time-bombed!
clacketing clocks corraling
what’s there to thus be.

it’d be something soup-er
if I could cobble it up
what now has to be fridged.

my morning hero
hot soothing stired back alive
instant coffee bliss

I have to toss the soup stuff in the fridge as I’m damn near late to work as it is. I’ve 40 minutes to be many minutes out the door to my bus… at least my coffee isn’t bitter…even if it is instant. the wind up clocks drive me a bit nuts but the last alarm failed to sound and I haven’t the luxury of just skipping work…I was golden and now I’m not so much as I must survive the stress that is the holidays in full force…. Its ridiculous to know it’s self-induced all our notions of what festive should be and the hell of knowing it requires effort and often we’re not into that but it must be just sooo! this is what puts us into homes…or maybe it’s the thing about toileting so many times a day most of them missed and thus messed…people can so no longer put that original care out there like it was allowed in a homemaker’s arrangement – a dream of a fifties’ bliss which is odd because it’s clear my father’s side was grandma doing the bring up so mom could work and travel which turned into two homes purchased…weird having to piece together the histories which weren’t discussed much….just the snippits that it wasn’t like you think it was since you moved to always crash grandmother’ s house and be in the family….I moved at one so no, I’d not have memories of what it was – just a few sommers over hints. ah but lucky you it’s a quarter til and I’ll be late if I reminisce anymore.

By Starman Jones

Everything and Nothing interests me. I cook read, write and even have to clean. I SHOULD NOTE: I'm 40 something.

3 replies on “what it is now.”

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