thursday

from my work table I can hear the sounds of a rooftop playground

all day long—cheering, screaming, laughing—yeah we did it, 

oh no! good job guys that was amazing, okay that's time

(and then it begins again, and again, and again)

all day children playing - I think the noise must be good for your soul

even if it's loud, even if it is a background not curated by spotify

it takes me to this summer recording House the delighted screams 

just right at the right moment 

next door someone in the jazz band does his scales

how inaccessible and reachable the past

how foolish to deny the existence of a righteous god

 this morning, the honey is inching slowly

I look away and when I look back

it is on the precipice, there

I reach out my spoon - still 

                                            I must wait longer

                        

                                what would it be like to live days

                                thinking not do I have covid? but I

                                do not have covid

the banana is already ripe

I looked away and time overtook it

I wrestle with myself - should I eat the 

less ripe half now and enjoy it?

or eat the spoiled half today knowing tomorrow

the other will be the same

                                    like the beatles in their studio themselves

                                    and not themselves, together and not together,

                                    playing and being serious, cigarettes and tea

                                    inspiring a generation of misspellings

already I wonder how I will be perceived

already I try to angle myself: I am smarter than you

                                       like realizing the similarity between my second grade teacher

                                        and a friend I made in college - how despite distance, time, situation,

                                        they are the same, their humor, their voice, their motherly ambition (my motherly ambition)

what would it mean to have faith

to believe in one and infinity?

                                        

                                            even knocked out flat crying in a headscarf in my dream

                                            the truth: it's called faith for a reason