10 August 2009

If I was a poet this would be my poem.

My day is simple.
Walk the dog. Run around the block.
Shower. Eat. Drive aggressively to appear as a Chicagoan.
Sit in a grey chair for several hours. Eat and sit with familiar faces.
And even more familiar stories.
Back to work in the grey chair surrounded by white walls.
Get back in the car and drive in the middle lane.
Less potholes in the middle lane.
Take dog out. Don't look at him while he poops.
Check the mail. As usual all of it is for others.
Krzysztof. Amy. Jaimus.
Find ingredients for dinner.
Tonight. Mushrooms. Rice. Sesame Oil. Red hot pepper flakes. Local purple garlic.
And when I say local I mean Harrisonburg.
Watch the news. Read a book. Write my song.
Run around the block. Sleep. Repeat.

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