Hola, internet people! It’s a short work week for me as I prep for a mini vacation and visit from my boyfriend, so this will be the last official workday poem of the week until I get back on Monday. I have tentative plans for a little something during my personal day tomorrow, but we’ll see if that comes into fruition or if I just binge watch Netflix instead.
Regardless of what tomorrow brings, here’s today’s poem!
In sanity, there are shades of grey,
Not of erotica fame, but of daily life.
Muttering to a rack full of clothes,
I’ll say “You belong on a feature,”
Or “Finally, more women’s plus!”
Being in charge forces an investment,
Creates camaraderie with clothes.
But it takes something, too.
A steady leak in my patience,
Which mirrors the slow drain of Freon
From my rusty 22-year-old Honda Accord.
At 22, I begin to feel a little rusted, too.
A soft, playful tiredness that settles in my shins,
In the balls and heels of my feet.
A catch I try to massage out with yoga,
Only to find another place of stiffness,
Into which I’m instructed to “breathe.”
But each morning, I wake renewed.
I may need oil in a can of Kickstart,
And a steady intake of calories,
But somehow, I manage to start,
Remind myself as I turn the key in the first
Car I’ve ever owned that I’m young, and—
More importantly—at least a little bit sane.
Note: Today, I actually did catch myself talking to a rack of clothes, which got me thinking about how that might look to someone else. This, in turn, got me to thinking about the effect that my job has on me on a daily basis and how, thankfully, I’m still always able to bounce back. Pretty straightforward, I think. Hope you liked it! 🙂