i write to her but am not capable of seeing her name so quickly delete her reply

i have these
white countertops
on my boat
and i hate
them.

i go to all sorts of
lengths to try to
keep them
“clean”.

when i grind
coffee
in the
morning,
i lay down
cutting boards
and
paper towels,
in an effort to
catch the
inevitable
errant
coffee
grounds.

but i
never
catch them
all.
and the
white countertop
is always
speckled.

at times
i get
into a
paralysis
about this,
feeling
totally defeated
by my inability
to do even the most
basic of tasks,
so i let
dishes pile up
and don’t even
attempt
to clean the counter.
eventually,
a mighty bout of
motivation
hits me, and
i clean the whole
of my tiny kitchen.

it never takes
very long, and
is never all that much
work.

i’ve always been
a complainer;
i should
complain less.

in this effort,
i find myself
enjoying the presence
of birds
a lot more than
i used to.

this feels like
a loss to me.
and this feels like
a win.

i don’t know that
i really believe
anymore
in “winning” and
“losing”;
we roam around
for a while,
hoping
we have more
pleasure and less
pain.

all of us,
tender and
needy.
Spring shoots
in the last days
of Winter.
trying to
hang around
long enough
to bloom.

Published by Zak

an intertidal island in an ocean of impermanence.

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