2005/cloudy

Cloudy April morning
the garbage trucks
roar,
wind chimes get
serious.
I lack ambition
for the day.
In fact I dread
what is to come,
door repairmen,
(I fear bearing
bad news)
with tools as loud
as the trucks
and the tale begins
to unwind of all
the difficulty
they’ve encountered
and how it can’t be
done as they said
it could,
or will cost
three times
as much,
and mean tearing
down the wall.
Things like that
they usually say,
it’s rarely clean
and easy.
And each delivers
his lines so convincingly
they believe it
themselves,
unfortunately, I’ve
lost the ability to.

4/18/05