Saturday, December 20, 2014

a routine cure for melancholy

you can't bear the weight of everything, all the time.
eventually you must put on your new hat,

walk downtown,
get a coffee at the black honey,

sit in the window and read a book,
and occasionally look up to watch people walk by.

you must think about a lot of things
consider a lot of possibilities,

listen to a lot of music,
think about a lot of lyrics,

eavesdrop on more than a few conversations,
wonder what the hell happened,

wonder how the hell you got here,
and what on earth you're going to do now.

eventually though,
sometime in the late afternoon,

you must consider the sun slanting over the buildings,
bronzing the cars of all the good folks of peterborough

going home from all those nine to fives,
and, because you can't bear the weight of everything, all the time,

you must offer the world a long, saddened sigh
before finally reaching the conclusion

that everything is going to be okay.

and, if you tilt your head just right,
squint a little bit, and hold your breath,

you might even believe it.

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