(unfinish)

Unfinished
books, half-read
magazines.
Post-its, underlines,
notes.
Bulging files.
Too many categories.
Projects worked on
hit & miss.
I cannot get
anything
to complete itself.
I want to pack
my life in boxes,
with must one
file upon my desk.
I think of running
away to an
inter-state motel,
a manuscript
spread out
on the extra
bed.
What is it
about Fresno
that gives me
such hope?
I could go there
& live another
life,
if only occasionally.
Perhaps one where
I live in a trailer
park,
& do not try so
hard
to make something
of my self.
One where I can
just have fun.
Some land wehre
the concept waste
does not exist.
Where my husband
won’t scold if
the water runs
too long,
if I ever use
the diswasher.
That place where the women
live who eat candy
& don’t get fat.
The ones who
chew gum.
Who always think
they look good,
no matter how
absurd they
have gotten.
That’s just
the kind of girl
I want to be.
I had an aunt
like that,
who drank
ice tea
& would spend
her only dollar
on a trifle
for my brother.
Just trying
to make somebody
happy,
just trying
to get love.

3/8/00