Every time I moved my bow on the violin, / my wrists said, do not sing. / I could not hear the words coming out of my mouth. / There was no more room to ask for love. /  I was run by a never ending / list of internists, who told me when to blink.

We are told about the prodigal son’s return. / We know neither when nor why he left. / If, for instance, departure occurred in the dark / stifling hours of a summer night or else / as we suspect, on a chilly winter dawn. / If he stole Father’s horse, if he took / the train at the station, if – as we imagine / he walked the dirt path towards the main road / then tried to hitch a ride. / Perhaps a cart stopped, or a lost tourist van / or  - that is just hearsay –  / a black limousine. 

My cranial jukebox plays nearly nonstop every day all day and half the night, snatches of melody and misremembered lyrics echoing down long and winding neural hallways in my noggin like a soundtrack for my daily comings and goings, my nightly musing and ramblings. Right now, for instance: “🎶You’ve got a friend in me/You’ve got a friend in me/Dah-dumpt-dah-dah in your nice warm bed/You’ve got a friend in me 🎶”

i think i killed my plant by not watering it. well, it is not dead yet. some of its limbs droop and hang like saggy skin and some of its leaves are yellow. they are not a happy yellow or a soothing yellow like my favorite color because they are still tinted with dark green. it is simply a color that is a reminder of its proximity to death. my plant is telling me, “help, i am alive, but i need you.”

This house makes noises, creaking floors / sounding with the thuds of footsteps, shifts / and stretching. Just settling, we say, just / showing its age. But this house is younger / than me, and I wonder how I reveal my years, /  the dust lining my ribcage, / the groaning of muscle and bone.

Hey, it’s me. I’ve made some time to explain / what I meant before. The prophylactic hypotheses / are hard at work. The hamsters are sleeping / in the henhouse. Try not to be alarmed. Try / to keep your voice down even in your own / home. We all have our reasons. And I don’t / blame you.