I often wonder why 
the day starts peacefully 
but then people come 
like biting bugs in 
the tail grass nipping 
at my naked ankles 
making them more important 
than me getting to 
the other side out
maybe next time I 
should try the long 
way around avoiding them 

I see a lagoon 
and I standing naked 
at the water’s edge 
having shed my clothes 
long before in anticipation 
throwing them off like 
tree boughs shaking off
last nights snowfall or
like a jilted lover
peels off broken promises 
one toe two toe
three toes in foot
calf and thigh wading 
finally under I go
and whatever was out 
there in here is 
no more and I 
become the cool water 

I am a ghost 
in my own life 
or perhaps a toothpick 
that’s been whittled down 
to this nub by 
life’s always sharp blade 
so many times I’ve 
repeated the starting over 
that I feel as though 
I’ve never been anywhere 
as though each time 
the juice of me 
has been squeezed and 
wrung out leaving me 
with only this husk
or this pulp with 
which to roam hauntingly 
to memories I’ve been 

If I were just 
one day later I’d 
know that today would 
be okay and yesterday 
would be that way
too but I’m not 
one day later just 
too early for tomorrow