2004/gdfriday

A cloudy morning,
the cat bathes
on the deck.
Jeans spin in
the dryer.
Tomorrow is Good
Friday,
a day that leaves
me anxious
and depressed.
I like skipping
straight to Easter,
remembering
the way Spring
used to feel.
The pink shoes
I had in fifth grade,
a grainy leather
that dulled the
pink,
making it less
than a perfect
match for the shiny
smooth clutch bag.
I always cared
about such things,
even then.
Maybe more then.
That was probably
the first purse
that taught me
the necessity of really
soft leather.
I always loved
purses,
and knew they should
match the shoes.
It was only much later
I let go
of trying to keep
this up,
carrying the same
purse, days
on end.
I hate that lack
of enthusiasm,
it cripples a life.
Good things take
effort,
everyone knows.
I have been buying
purses again.
A green one that’s
not quite right
for my clothes,
a palm print.
A tangerine one
with my initial.
I never meant
to succumb
to such a fad.
It was the color,
an energy-inducing
tangerine that
I have already
cycled through,
and the delicious softness
to my hand.
I’ve had this color
already,
in junior high
when I learned
to call it tangerine.
I keep thinking I’ll
return this purse,
but don’t.
It links me back
to the longing,
clarity of vision
I originally had.
That beautiful colors
and softness,
were things
a person
had to have.

4/8/04