Regarding the Piece I Didn’t Write on the Blank Pages at the Back of The National Audubon Society’s Guide to North American Birds

First published in the online poetry journal Borderline (Volume 1, Issue 2, 2010)

push, write
so much static-

Third aisle of the supermarket iPod lost its juice.
Kept the buds in my ears.
Couldn’t handle full-on reality.
Passed an old woman with like
ten packages of Depends in her cart
looking weary and smelling of urine.

Five minutes earlier-

Sitting in the minivan waiting for the iPod to charge.
Staring at the strip mall across the street:
Happy Wok, Happy Nails, Happy Prostitute?
Found my favorite pen and some blank pages at the back of
The National Audubon Society’s Guide to North American Birds.

push, write
static-

Grocery list wouldn’t shut up.
Words stumbled and froze.
Stupid lines refused to dance.
Could’ve been so profound, you know;
a piece about the irony of me in my minivan watching her work her corner.
Instead those precious pages were molested with:
Bread
Tampons
TP
Cat food
Peanut Butter
Baby food
Etcetera
Blah
Blah
Blah

static, stasis-

Ninety minutes later-

Reading headlines about Oprah’s final season.
Toying with the idea of a piece about futility of resisting predestined assaults on my youth-
("Wearing My iPod, I Can Still Smell My Future").
Eavesdropping on the phone conversation of a woman in the next line over.
Buds out.
Full-on reality-

“I’m getting my floors cleaned today”

WTF?!?
Really?
This is what I joined the world for?
Floors?!?

Strong urge to punch paper Oprah in the face.
(sigh)
Buds in.
Reality altered.

Ten minutes later-

Pushing the cart to the minivan.
Unloading words.
Resolving to write that piece when I get home.
The one about the Happy Prostitute? and me.
First I'll I sanitize my hands.
Then I'll put the groceries away and the iPod on the charger.
Hell, maybe I'll make an appointment to get my floors cleaned...

static, stasis
push, write
push, write
push
write-