had i known you were bringing a terrified teenager, i likely would have worn different pants

i make lists
in small pocket-sized

i put boxes
next to the words
i write, boxes
that allow me to
make an X or
a checkmark,
so that i can
plainly see
my accomplishments.

this week
the small notebook
tells me to
do some research
on fermented beverages.
tells me to
find a floor mat
on which to
wipe my shows.

this week
the small notebook
tells me to go
through my clothes,
weed out that which
doesn’t fit or
doesn’t please
or layers me
too completely
in my redundancies.

looking up from my
small pocket-sized
all my accomplishments
impressed upon
the off-white paper,
i see the sea
at my side.
upon it, birds
float in the Spring
chop. kicking
their small legs,
their bodies round
and bobbing,
the bird wakes
to its day already
in possession of
all it needs.

it is not the world
that gives us
our beauty,
it is not the world
that takes it

Published by Zak

an intertidal island in an ocean of impermanence.

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