2000/form

Day takes on its form,
people rumble out
into the world,
cluster and chatter.
In red turtle necks,
floral blouses and skirts.
Laced up in athletic shoes.
A day grows, as anything does.
Hitting its stride around noon.
Pitta time.
When appetites roar and
aggression takes hold of us.
I’m supposed to lay low then,
do something contemplative.

It’s often when I find myself
in the post office line,
flailing myself for poor planning.
Uncertain which clerk to hope for.
My favorite one left,
the runner-up says the same thing
to me all the time,
I hate that kind of repetition.
And the other guy who’s not too bad
has cut his pony tail off,
which left him looking like
a postal clerk.
This way of thinking
is why I’m supposed
to stay in.

3/21/00