June 28th, 2019

I had attempted to write a poem about this morning, but I know all too well that poetry is not my forte. I tend to fall into cliches, but not like social media, where I can taste colors, and smell words. I speak of sunlight as if it's the dawn of man, when the reality is it's merely the yawn of man and beast. We both yawned, Swag and I, then stretched, his more graceful and with much less crackling. He runs, I limp, both waiting to greet the day. His prep takes less time, as pantless and shirtless is proper attire for my feline friend. He will later walk back upstairs, while I carry his food. Zig-zagging against my legs, showing his appreciation, tail standing tall. I"ve beaten this theme to death: the morning sun, the hope of a new day, the inevitable good and bad, the struggle to sleep, all just to repeat this moment, hopefully without rain. Today will be different I tell myself, as I stare at the same mug, on the same table, on the same deck. Forty-six days from now it will, but where. It's all I can think of; that and how to afford it. The three C's of my morning: cat, coffee, calm. A motorcycle reminds me it's close to ending. The dogs will bark, the feet will stomp, the neighbors will yell, or laugh, or the beeps of a truck will be deafening. I woke to the sounds of birds chirping, drowning out the drone sounds from a fan, but they are already being overtaken by the sounds of rubber on asphalt, the squeak of brakes, and the occasional horn. Laundry, breakfast, internet, a cocktail, a job search, a drive to the bank, store, or anywhere. I have two dollars in my wallet, yes, really, and right now it's all I need. That is until I need more. Don't we always need more, no matter how much we have? I don't want to be we anymore. We is for Facebook, our social circles, our communities, towns, cities. We is everything we do for everyone else's acceptance. I'm too old to care and I don't need a single thing to define me; until I do.