NaPoWriMo 2012: eighteen
There is a Sorrow that Fills the World
It's mid April and the hyacinths are dying.
Year after year, every thing around me dies.
The man at the counter clearly had issues,
his voice pitched too high, his obsession
with numbers. The waitress rolled her eyes
when she turned away. I wanted to say, wait.
Hold your impatience (and yet, she was
being patient, she was firm and solid
and did not scorn him to his face). Wait.
Here is a man my son might grow up to become.
(Except please don't let my son tell racist jokes
while he tries to do his best not to pay a bill.)
It's mid-April and the cherry tree blossoms
are falling. My sink is covered in detrius
from the bouquet my friend gave me last week.
While I sat in my booth, the next woman
to come in thought I might have been the one
she was there to meet, who I looked nothing like.
She was kind enough to help give directions
to the elderly man asking where Watchung Plaza
is. I had my head in a book and today my heart
felt like exploding into a million pieces, so
I stayed quiet, looking up only to smile at everyone,
this crazy Californian habit I can't seem to let go of.
It's mid-April and the dandelions are flying apart.
Year after year, everything in this world dies.
After I'd paid my bill with a too high tip because
her patience made up for the fact that my coffee
needed filling yet again, I walked to my car
and sat for a few minutes, wanting to fall apart
and unable to let myself go, the concrete around
me dingy and decayed. Crying had to wait for home,
for this charming little cottage we've been
settling into this year. Watching the seasons shifting
yet again, green changing the streets entirely,
my tears finally came and washed it all clean.