GOING DOWNSTAIRS

Some thoughts come about wishfully,
and these I hope to let go of.
The mystery of the card in the mail
is handlable. Its reality is suspended,
whether it’s a joke, or a mistake,
or an actual gift.

There are certain days of the year
that should feel important; it seems like
a fitting commemoration or ceremony
is needed. Then you realize
that the resignation set in long ago.

And if I let the dust
settle all around me,
we might make some progress.

(12 September 2006)