I notice the
small things,
the new vanity
lights in the
bath room,
my wood block
print of a laundromat,
the mother folding
clothes while her
child plays,
re-framed and hung
in the laundry room,
the Old Dutch
cleanser ad
I’ve had for
thirty years,
brought out
and given
a place of honor,
over the washing
machine.
These lift my
spirits more
than the new paint
or the hardwood
floors I have
to constantly
clean.
I’ve known this
for years,
I’m into details,
not structure.
Handles and
knobs,
rather than
cabinets and
walls.
It’s hard to get
to the part
where I excel.
First I suffer
and struggle,
and usually cry.

8/1/06