Herself: No bike. Oh Guilt. Delete, delete, delete, school where I so overworked the painting that out it goes, and burritos for dinner before Tarjay for meds.
Reading: Peter S. Beagle.
Balance: Worked on a poem. It too shows signs of overwork, but I need something printable for class by 1100 am this morning.
from my past lives onto a new hard drive
all of it
in its pixel and jpg complexity
I dither in confusion
discovering endless duplicities
smiling, frowning, hanging there
in yet another folder
complicating my fresh life
I’m now deleting those unused passions
unused caring in triplicate
repeated grandchildren endlessly kicking
a soccer ball, hitting a baseball,
playing in the band
I see multiples of
grandmothers in bonnets
grand aunts in print dresses
and endless ships
slightly out of focus
images taken in two pixels bytes
now saved in a twelve pixel world.
obsessed with discarding the past
I find that other duplicities
creep upon my day
dirty dishes fill my sink
leftover projects crowd the counters
grow like seeds discarded
among enthusiastic dust mites
and objects scattered
are waiting to trip unwary feet
and get us all deleted.