|Vehicle chasing the moon|
Thoughts like the dark side of the moon
seek the light of my attention.
So often senseless, useless, they persist.
"Sex is better when you're older.
You don't have to worry about getting pregnant,"
says my 72 year old student, whose face
I cannot see, through the haze of recollection.
But before my brain can focus, flashes
from nowhere strike:
"Ugh, food shopping day, No he didn't! just leave that mess for me to clean,
Poetry, wish I could write like him, I think I suck, what's the use?
But, I love it so. Boy, Ronda and Walter sure are stingy. Guess I shouldn't think like that but..."
Sometimes, with intention, I make them
replacing crazy chatter with positive ruminations,
that make me feel
better about my tender, generous heart,
often misunderstood, perhaps due to issues from childhood,
but I know I'm really good, and I'd change so many things
if I could, starting with myself, because I should...
They spin circles, these thoughts,
both rational and absurd
unique designs in my mind,
thinking that I weave Who I Am
into their thoughtless, spontaneous sparks.
I'm learning to observe,
to watch -
the way I watch my dogs being dogs,
which I try to control,
but, how can I resist
I watch them,
knowing I'm not my dogs,
nor Am I my thoughts.
So, whose watching?
(Submitted to Dverse Poets, Open Link Night.)