justwrite 8 september

While waiting for the footsteps to land for the hour to strike vanilla is lit in my room and the facts are making themselves quite plain my nails too long for folly for lollipops and dressing rooms we are waiting for the conclusions but the evidence is scant the cancellations and hesitations I am prepared to make a plan and these shall be the numbers and the numbers shall be three with two missing and I am the one who will be the remainder I will be carried along in the backseat of forgotten journeys mine is not to lead to drive mine is to sway to carry on despite to close my eyes at light and turn each shade in turn the burning wonder and the steady motion the staying still and the worrying through my muscles are rebelling but my mind twines on I will make a puzzle and I will solve it I will adapt fastidious habits I will be a real writer I will study to be a student and I will apply to be a teacher featuring every sort of possibility I am reaching out and this much is plain I am raining and declaring a parade in the same breath the way chests full of jewels are empty in the last scene the prescription plans and the scandalous calls for reimbursement we’re worse sent away and we’re tossed all the play books we can handle the wrangling of exotic hounds and the calamine lotion that won’t keep off the itch to go to do to move to be more qualified to be smarter more clever to know the answers and to keep the tongue untwisted in communicative attempts we are remedying ourselves in the singular and I’m wringing worth from wonder in the everyother blunder I am an oatmeal cookie in which I mean absurdity is accuracy and the boxes I keep wanting to buy would too easily be filled with nothing and anyway I’m shopping alone there’s a poem in that too and I will take notes I will put my hopes on paper and turn them into and in