I Hope I Find Anonymous Letters in My Inbox Explaining This Pain

Morning

I stand motionless among the rushes
Listening to the cattails dance on the wind

The morning’s coffee bitter on my tongue
A remembrance of life’s missed opportunities

Lunch Break

Pin pricks of rain
Speckle the windshield

The damp settles into my bones
Dirty patches of snow cling to curbs

A half smoked cigarette
Floats in the an oil slicked puddle
Of this chain store parking lot

Frantically scribbling
Into a dollar store notebook
The pain of hate and loss

Weekend Nights

Sitting at the kitchen table
Alone
Drunk
Convinced I’m a failure

As broken as this Slinky
In my hands

Twisted and bent
The silver finish dulled

I throw it into
The black trash bag
That sits bulging with discarded memories
In the middle of the floor

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