Day 81. The Purgatory Between Buildings E and F

(first draft)

Truth is, you won't remember now.
If you're living day by day,
keeping time on a pocketchain,
you'll keep record of the small
things that momentarily halt the routine--
but even so this will
evade you like an invisible gorilla.
The days sneak past and
even your ups and downs are predictable.
You could take a different staircase but it wouldn't
get you there just right just
so
Yes, it's better this way.

--although
you do wonder, right?
When the future will come
(if it does.)
and your mistakes will only be toys
you let your children play with--
when there will be nothing to jeopardize.
This isn't a call to action.
You don't like it when books or movies, stories about youth, get into
the inevitableShort. Verb. Command. Sentences
(goleaplaughcrysoar)
because you feel only the absence of feeling
you should be crying, you should be throwing that story across the room as you
say yes to motorcycles, to tequila-filled chocolates--
but you're alone and no one's watching
so who's to say you're here?
Alive.
It's a word you've heard since birth and before
but you still don't know what it means.
The sugar bones in your feet were made to break
and you've worn your claws to stubs;
still you feel the growl inside.
Alive.

Forget your stolen promises to make this a better year.
Time is found in transitions, so linger
for the long goodbye.
Plays would not be the same without their (beats) and neither would you.
Let this be your first memory.
Unfold the origami of a staircase.
If you want to remember-- find the hidden sides.