Awake in your bed, you scratch at your head.
You stir from the sheet, and now on your feet.
You walk to the dresser, you want to just test her.
Open the drawer, craving for more.
Pick up one shot, scared are you not?
Just one little pop, your body will drop.
It rests at your temple, a sigh as you tremble.
Click goes the gun, now having fun?
The feeling now faded, life was not traded.
The gun put away, you live another day.
Was all just a dream? What could this mean?

‘How are you?’
A question people hear more from me,
then I hear from them.
Doubting whether it’s pure interest,
or a habit grown in our systems.
Not knowing which lie to tell,
or revealing the truth.
But not sure if they can handle reality.
The need to stop lying is huge,
but anxiety for their reactions makes me continue.|
Because the seize of this mess is so big,
the possibility of unexpected answers there.
Fear for loneliness gets me again so,
‘I am okay’ is the answer again.

the day starts with shirley
who comes in just after eight
for her 20oz chai
"what kind of milk?"
"doesn't matter"
punches her own coffee card
tells me about her puppy
kayla is next her hair and
makeup always perfect
about as nice a landlady as
one can have in a town like this

from there it's a constant
stream of people
who i watch out for and
who don't know i'm doing it

janice lives alone and thinks
people are stealing her money
doesn't understand
the tests her doctors want
she can't remember
what she always orders
it's a turkey club sandwich no bacon
on toasted oatmeal regular chips no pickle
a to go box for the leftovers
and some kind of chocolate treat in a bag
because she only eats when
she comes in here

two weeks ago
i accidentally switched
barb's 12oz soy chai
with someone else's
12oz whole milk chai
it wasn't enough dairy
to give her a problem
in fact she didn't seem
to remember it
but i made her another for free

nic stopped for his afternoon coffee
didn't laugh at anything just stared
blankly into space and said he
thought he was getting sick
had too many things to finish
the day before when i was waving
to him from the parking lot
so i took my dog to the
back door of his office and
we barked until he came out
patted us both on the head
and said he felt better

we're all creatures of habit
like mckenna who arrives
like clockwork
between one thirty and two
tuesday through saturday
leans on my bake case while
i count my tips and add random
ingredients to different drinks
in a reckless attempt
to break up the monotony
and he drinks them all
like clockwork
no matter how bad they are

rita doesn't smile since she broke her hip
in fact i haven't seen her since
walt got sick and he and joan
moved upstate to be closer to their son
i worry about something happening to ray
who will take care of rita?
whose laugh used to echo off the walls
and fill the place up
pat's smoking again and it turns out
he has congenital heart failure
gail had a fall, a stroke and
suddenly died

i make the same dumb jokes
only a few people smile at
i sing to myself
and people point it out

karen sits in her motorized wheelchair
ice and snow dripping from the wheels
onto the scratched, muddy floor
and tells me i'm pretty and funny
and have a beautiful voice and
i look at karen, her head tilted to
the side and spit hanging from her
buck teeth and wonder why such a
wonderful funny girl with a heart of gold
had to have the body she's stuck in

why life is ****
and why i'm trying
i swear i'm trying
fighting
for something
i don't know what

why we fight
why we try
to make the world
a better place
when nothing can really change
any of these dismal facts

Walking back home,
Like a walking dead.

Thought I took DayQuil,
But it feels like NyQuil.

Wanna cuddle with a dog,
But all I have is a cat.

All the contradictions in life
Become the reasons to laugh.

Dry your eyes.
Fix your hair.
Wipe your runny nose.
Who knew.
Things may improve,
So, don't read the news.
Go about your daily business
As if the sky were blue,
As if you didn't know,
As if you don't care.

The only thing that makes me different is the fact I know we're all the same.
we play the same character in this greedy game
we roll the dice and play our life’s, choose whether to do what’s right
even though it’s all the same at the end of every night
our limits our budgets are always tight
some of us rebel some of us fight
and hope that maybe the cards are in our hands tonight

I sat hard-pressed against
the plastic seat on the Metro,
green line to Branch Ave,
feeling the heat
of all the dozens of bodies that surrounded me,
5:30 PM and everyone
making headway for home after a
long, hot work day.
The swampy humidity
clung to my arms like sticky tack.
I wiped my brow with the sleeve of my
blazer
and listened to some 90s
R & B on my iPod as I
c
o
u
n
t
e
d
d
o
w
n
the exits till I could
free               myself      from
the suffocating crowd.
It was no day that was even remotely extraordinary,
no life-changing series of events,
no incredible people I had met;
nope, just commuting back to the SE quadrant of
town as I had
every day that summer.
I looked up and took
a snapshot with my mind;
I remember exactly
how that sliver of time
felt to me,
how it looked,
smelledsoundedtasted
as I realized my days in D.C. had begun to feel
like the norm,
that I had grown accustomed to the
claustrophobic train cabins,
the repetitive street names,
and
10% sales tax.
So suddenly there was this
catastrophic
timeturning
momentous magnanimous monumental magic
of the most mundanely minuscule moment,
as ordinary crawled up my veins
and absorbed me in it.
Somehow
squeezed.in.between
the rush-hour,
the annoyance, impatience, and near-suffocation
felt like
home.