I'll watch the Magic game,
and put together a Barbie camper,
block out everyunimportthing.
It's overwhelming, the world.
There are so may books,
and WAY too much music,
not to mention
politics and economics,
tv shows and movies.
So.
Much.
Stuff.
Love and death,
rent and bills,
food and exercise.
Endless garbage,
and laundry,
and dishes.
What's not out of reach
is being a good dad
and a prolific poet.
And when life gives limes,
or when I am jobbed by zebras,
I can't offer much, besides "That sucks."
Because moving on doesn't come without coping mechanisms.
And being present
is not accomplished
without ignoring the past
and the future.