deepundergroundpoetry.com
good day
I had a beautiful day today.
I've been trying so hard
to work up the nerve to pull my voice out
and shake the dust off it,
like fixing up an inherited, gorgeous Persian,
a good strong beauty I never realized
I might really, truly adore -
I am happy
through these hard days,
in spite of the isolation,
and in spite of battling ye olde addictive tendencies
in an exhausting, costly,
worth-it war -
I blew out to the suburb
(in the perfect-weather evening)
via alto sax
"What a Wonderful World,"
because, damn, Louis is still right! -
my dad and I groan at each other for taking up the kitchen;
my mother and sister crack wise
and Easter eggs -
my dogs snore and snuffle too loud
and pissed on my yoga mat
(I hosed it off in the sun, somehow laughing)
and my brother and I say a few words
that don't turn sour,
and Scent of a Woman
came on, and I wished with a haze and heat
that Al Pacino
would tango with me -
drank a frosty glass of dad's Scotch
to that fantastic closing
"BUT HE'S NOT A SNITCH!"
scene...
hoo-ah!
I can't beg the future for anything
anymore -
just cultivate the good in me,
enjoy the flutter of the moments' wings -
be brave, and play, and sing -
and make some more good days.
I've been trying so hard
to work up the nerve to pull my voice out
and shake the dust off it,
like fixing up an inherited, gorgeous Persian,
a good strong beauty I never realized
I might really, truly adore -
I am happy
through these hard days,
in spite of the isolation,
and in spite of battling ye olde addictive tendencies
in an exhausting, costly,
worth-it war -
I blew out to the suburb
(in the perfect-weather evening)
via alto sax
"What a Wonderful World,"
because, damn, Louis is still right! -
my dad and I groan at each other for taking up the kitchen;
my mother and sister crack wise
and Easter eggs -
my dogs snore and snuffle too loud
and pissed on my yoga mat
(I hosed it off in the sun, somehow laughing)
and my brother and I say a few words
that don't turn sour,
and Scent of a Woman
came on, and I wished with a haze and heat
that Al Pacino
would tango with me -
drank a frosty glass of dad's Scotch
to that fantastic closing
"BUT HE'S NOT A SNITCH!"
scene...
hoo-ah!
I can't beg the future for anything
anymore -
just cultivate the good in me,
enjoy the flutter of the moments' wings -
be brave, and play, and sing -
and make some more good days.
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