precipice

things seem more sincere

when it's the last time

you're going to do them

loving touches in

routine duties

memorable lines in

rote conversations

makes meaning

in the madness

if i could pause

each time i talk 

to someone today

just to say

thank you thank you thank you

for sharing your health

and energy

and point of view

i would

but talk becomes tedious

when preparing for the end

(and it will be the end of something)

takes the will away

the will that says

thank you thank you thank you 

for these moments 

of usefullness 

however fleeting

and lead me to the grey

gently, please

no longer me but even still free

in the back of my eyes

(wise)

who i helped today

a woman who's a bit cantankerous

who came with a wish list of demands

that she'll probably be mad about later

looking at me with a judgemental eye

(probably about my earrings)

clink

a man who wanted help with google ads 

since i worked in the public sector i should be an expert in 

google ads

how dare you type my question in google

oh there's the answer

thanks 

a child being sent in

by her mother

to pick up a romance novel

with "concubine" in the title

"would you like a plastic bag?"

yes, please, and a unicorn sticker

surely

a man 

carefully walking

his stature still tall

but precarious

his clothes too big

for his thinning frame

he patiently waited

for copies he needed

i tried hard not to act differently

when i found out

it was his last will and testament

written cautiously in brilliant cursive

he received colorful paper clips 

and a special folder

to carry his burdens

and all the attention i could muster

without seeming too weird

much talk about the weather, 

and autumn days

from long ago

where does it all go

 

the blinking cursor

hey

did you happen to wonder

what silences a poet?

physical ailments

complicated entanglements

harsh realities

too many maladies? 

sometimes the world

gets too big

and the voice

becomes too small

against it

and what's within 

it never seems to measure up

deep breaths

long walks

short talks

denial

never seem to help

as much as patient paper

or the blinking cursor

i shall try 

once a month

to dare to feel

how i really am

and understand 

why the end 

seems so near

(no fear)