Sometimes I like to dress up a bit,
even when I don’t have to
for my job,
just to look nice for you
when I get home.
I iron a blue dress shirt,
take out my gray slacks,
and don my dress shoes;
I’ll take time in the morning
to make sure my hair is
just right;
spray some of that cologne you like;
and at my desk during lunch time,
I think to myself, “OK, you can do this.
Just stay clean and presentable
until tonight.”
But, inevitably, your needle-in-a-hay-stack eyes
seek out some salsa I’d never have seen
on my sleeve,
and you say, with the most kissable smile
my lips were ever privileged to meet,
“so close.”
I heard some bars
are extending Happy Hour tonight
on account of the vernal equinox.
I guess you’ve got
to fight off these damn allergies
somehow.
The menu hit me
on the drive in to work,
so from this point forward
it’s all in the details:
making a list,
shopping for groceries,
and then, the trickiest part of all,
the waiting.
So the temperature dropped 20 degrees
while we lay sleeping
last night.
We’re not sliding towards Autumn,
we’re freefalling.
A little soft music and a pretty view,
and before you know it
this drive home’s
a movie.
Here’s to the life you always wanted to live–
the one up on the top shelf
that goes down without a burn.
Here’s to every living thing
you took the time and had the pleasure
to stand and glow beside.
Here’s to the beauty,
and oh, what the hell, the heartache too–
’cause life can’t write you a ballad
without ever having scribbled through the sadness.
Yes, here’s to your brand new day,
standing in its Sunday best,
arm extended,
waiting for this next dance.
Exhaustion has chained me down
to this chair.
Honestly!
If I could get up and wash the skin of this apple,
I would. But for now
I think I’ll slouch back a little more
and allow my blinking to get
just a tad bit
slower.
Ok, I thought I made it clear
that I was ready for Autumn.
So, what’s the deal
with all this heat?
C’mon,
I’m starting to sweat here.
With branches tangled
as a box of old Christmas lights,
you think someone
would’ve offered this poor tree
a comb by now.
The day grows older
and someone, somewhere
takes a shower strong enough
to make this whole damn town damp.
One a Day 