I have to admit, I have no desire to go back and change a single thing in my past. No matter how painful, how catastrophic, how collossally wrong, I wouldn't change a thing. If I did, I wouldn't be here.
Here is good. Here is my besheret, fabulous friends, loving family, crazy cats, rewarding job, comfortable house, hybrid vehicle and never enough books. If I changed "there," I wouldn't be here, and I love here.
So here's a poem about "here" for someone thinking about "there." Oh, then a bathroom poem. Enjoy!
In my dream I return
to the place I went
wrong, and given this
chance to change
things, I go on
down the way I went
before. Even in sleep
I know there is only one go—
and it went well
the first time. Where
it didn't- well, it will
be good to see her again.
by Louis McKee
from Near Occasions of Sin. © Cynic Press.
Is anyone listening?
Faces come and go
Some smiling, others frowning
Children splash their hands under my faucet that is in need of repair
An old man quietly sits as he waits for the sound of splashing water
Through my window I can see the Ferris wheel go round and round
Screams and laughter are heard from a distance
I can smell those world famous dogs sizzling on the grill
If I can see and hear all these things then why, why can’t they hear me?
My paint is peeling
It itches my skin
My vibrant colors are no longer there
I feel so alone and nearly in the dark
Two of my bulbs are no longer bright
If you think its dim now just wait till tonight
If you can hear me then please grant my wish
Change my towel
It smells like a dead fish
Coat me with new blue paint but first scrub the rust
Sweep my feet and get rid of the dust
I want to smell nice and have a new shine
If you look behind my stall you may find a dime
I think it shows heads so do pick it up
Use the money for yourself or simply give it away
Just please grant my wish and make me feel nice
A little rub here and a polish of my brass
Is that too much to ask?
by Bill Kitzerow