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Roberta Day Apr 2013
How long until this

predicament without wheels

might screech to a halt?
Roberta Day Apr 2013
Your soft lips make me
wish I had asked to join your
refreshing shower
Roberta Day Apr 2013
Back when James Bond
and Indiana Jones were favorites
among the household,
and breakfast sizzled to tickle me
out of bed, and when cartoons
were at the perfect time of day
after long hours of instruction—
those days are gone,
replaced by weeks condensed
with indifference towards each other,
and echoing anguish off of unfinished floors,
and harping about the price of fuel—
Back when felines were abundant
to love and protect like the family they became
until they were given a new home while I was away,
and activities were shared with no such thought,
and the bottles of chardonnay were less often—
before the switch flipped, before the filter dissolved,
before critical understanding of the complexities
and intricacies of life and human nature;
Growing pains are the realizations
that not everything is as it was,
and there isn’t a way to return
Roberta Day Mar 2013
Here is a haiku

I have fabricated out

of thin air and words
because there's eight minutes left of Tuesday. For Klaus.
Roberta Day Mar 2013
Apologizing

is difficult when you feel

so indifferent
Roberta Day Feb 2013
A writer who can't write haikus on Tuesdays is no writer at all.
I'm forgetful.
Roberta Day Feb 2013
Right.
What is right?
Nothing that comes from me.
Wrong.
Am I wrong?
Doubtful; it's all I'll ever be.

Underappreciated.
Undeserving. Which weighs
heavier on my heart and mind?
My conscience is crippled
I can't count the ripples
of sadness chasing behind

Solitary isolation
From loving interaction
I wither, alone, inside myself
I wish to shred my skin to bits
Cry what I detest with every stitch

Am I right to feel
Anything at all?
Doubtful; I'm always wrong.
I lost my job today.
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