Cat is crazier than usual.
I’m too tired to be amused.
Too tired for a lot of things,
the door repairman who is due,
construction that is pending,
the chaos my home has become.
Too tired for late December,
the year’s journals
marked with post-its,
all the same old patterns
A year that was to be
a success, a litany
of disappointments instead.
Cut through with petty
disasters and battles
with the insurance company.
This week the tsunami in Indonesia,
bodies line the beach
on orange plastic.
Waiting to be claimed.
No privacy for their
A necessary insult,
but disturbing to observe.
I dare not complain
about my paltry
little problems,
dare not exhibit
such poor taste.