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Brian Rihlmann Mar 2018
In their lust
for a truth grasped
only in their minds
they sacrifice life
and become evil.
I do not want
to be a revolutionary.
Or maybe just a quiet one:
doing less than others,
living more simply,
doing without
certain things they say
I must desire
to be fully human.
People do too much anyway.
And the more they try
to fix things
the worse it becomes.
Imagine the consequences
of an ethos of laziness!
Could it possibly be worse
than the path we’ve chosen?
Brian Rihlmann Mar 2018
She worked hard,
had a couple of rentals now,
and it seemed reasonable.
Rents were rising,
why not cash in?
Her friends said,
“Good for you.”
“That’s smart.”
“You deserve it.”
They can afford it,
she thought.
Or if not, work more,
get a second job,
find another place.

He got the email,
late that night,
and wished he hadn’t seen it.
A numbness spread
through his chest,
there would be no sleep.
“That’s a 40% increase...
how can she do this?
We were friends for
like five years before
I became her tenant...”

It’s morning and he’s
red eyed, exhausted
and running late,
“Get the **** out of my way, you ****!”
Weaving in and out,
“Can’t be late,
can’t get fired, not now.”
And every other driver’s day,
is made just a little worse.

It continues,
the decision makers
changing direction
like a flock of sparrows,
one following the other
not because they must,
but because they can.
It is rational, after all
to seek one’s own self interest.

And the people are wondering
how they will afford to live.
“Why is this happening?”
Angry drivers on the road,
angry shoppers in the market.

He thinks, “Maybe I’ll
get a roommate.  Might not
be so bad, having somebody
around for a change.”
Many others will do the same.
Like that same flock of sparrows,
huddling together in the cold.

She’s at a party,
with some other
would be moguls.
They stand around,
congratulating themselves,
wondering why more people
are not like them.
“We did it, anyone can.
Look how we’ve built
this city, made it better
for everyone.”

They keep a certain distance
and eye each other
a bit suspiciously at times.
But that’s ok.
Just part of the price
of admission to the club.
Brian Rihlmann Mar 2018
A friend asked me
to a concert last night.  
I like music, but then
I thought about parking,
long lines, crowds,
and obnoxious drunks
and declined.

This morning I awoke
to snow on the ground.
I stepped outside
a purple flower poking up
through the whiteness
shivered along with me.
A neighbor was packing
skis in the car,
hurrying to get
up the mountain
before everyone else.

I wish I wanted
to go skiing,
I thought.
It’s been awhile
since I did that.
But again, I thought about
parking, and long lines,
and hundred plus dollar
lift tickets....

I am getting older.
I have done many things
in my life, enough to know
what things I don’t need
to do anymore.
And honestly, the list
of things I don’t want to do,
is longer than the other list,
the “bucket list”, I guess.

Here is a good place.
I think I’ll sit here
in the sunshine
watch the snow melt,
listen to it drip
from the roof.
Brian Rihlmann Mar 2018
Awakened to
about four inches
on the ground, finally.
Sun just rising,
birds celebrating
a little warmth,
everything white
and gleaming.
Life of a snowflake:
evaporate, condensate
crystallize into
a million beautiful forms,
melt and begin again.
Never destroyed.
Aren’t we all
just like this
no matter our opinions.
Brian Rihlmann Mar 2018
It happened again
the other day.
I awoke from a nap
and as I often sleep
with my head on my arm
my hand was numb.  
Is this it?
Am I having a stroke?
A heart attack?
I shook my hand furiously
until the feeling returned
to my panicky fingers.
My heart slowed,
I breathed, and lay still.
Mid forties, now,
my awareness of it
no longer merely conceptual.
You really can’t remind yourself
often enough:
You’ll be gone
before you know it.
You’re going back
to what you were.
To fertilize the grass,
feed insects and birds,
fly, and fall as rain,
and be breathed and drank
by those who come after.
All the money and power,
hopes and fears,
memories, identities
and cherished accomplishments
once clenched in tight fists
passing as effortlessly on
as your last breath.
Remember all this,
then choose how to live.
But we don’t.
Brian Rihlmann Feb 2018
I am old enough now
to remember
staying in my apartment for hours
afraid of missing your call,
my insides knotted, burning
as I wore the carpet down
with pacing,
smoking each cigarette
down to the filter.

Now I'd just
grab my cell
head out
do whatever.
Progress, but somehow
I only see
what’s been lost.
Brian Rihlmann Feb 2018
Someday, we will be astonished to find
that the time we worked so hard to save
with our rushing ahead to the next,
and the next, and the next....
is not there for us
like an old cigar box full of cash
buried in the backyard.
It’s gone, gone, gone
and no thief in sight.
It can’t be saved, or spent
and it’s never there
but always here
if it’s anywhere at all.
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