Between Bouts of Detachment

Dreams require errands and chocolate has replaced cigarettes… almost. I imagine you there, reading, but not hearing the same music I write to. In a moment of discouragement I wonder if we ever connect to another living soul. In a second flash, I wonder how our interconnectedness with every being is ever overlooked.
This is my impatient space, wordy, antsy, prone to philosophical monologues. I’m on draft four, wishing a poem would begin already. Chicken, rice, peas, cheese and Curious George behind The Beatles don’t produce poetic today.
Any number of positive comments could accurately be made about me, but not “She is patient.” She is okay with that, impatience can look and act like determination. Today and yesterday, being less than acquiescent about waiting to see which way the wind blows, I’m not at my best. Fortunately I’m still ahead of myself this time last year, which is the goal, progress not perfection.
Yesterday I gave away a box of books, today a couple bags of clothes. I pulled all of our baking business supplies out of the spare bedroom where a generous path has now been carved through mostly ignored belongings. This is why I assigned myself thirty days. Discouragement can be lessened with small successes.

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