Slim Directions

I sleep
clothes on,
prospects slim.

Or better than slim,
if you can actually go that direction
and have much
to smile
back upon.

At least it is
ever so easy
to sum up the possibilities.

No endless horizons
to stray the eyes on to pondering,

focus in the minimal
and essential.

No,
no
my needs
are more than this,

never mind.

This is like counting the register at an amusement park in November.

Everyone full of turkey
or dreams of
shopping lists,
warmer places,
and gifts to come.
Always everyone full of something
other than what they are,

but at least hoping forward
for happiness.

But still not the dreams of love
that claim the summer
almost whole.

I sleep in my clothes,
this is life
in its most
singular.

Vows servered me well
but into equalizing normalcy
one kind of down to to floor,

but an ooze,

no woo.

This is like counting the register at an amusement park in November.

Every once in while
we get it on and say hey
why
hey why don't we do this more
then the year rounds by and we do it again

never mending
the growing rift
that I hope
only swallows
itself.

This is like counting the register at an amusement park in November.

One easy task,
but so little to it,
that there are few memories to file.

So few memories to file,
yet every year there is another candle on the cake.

and I thought I'd be fuller by now.