One hot second

I feel the presence

Today isn’t anything special:
I'm waiting for something to happen.
I've made lists.
I've set alarms.
There are reminders:
I've snoozed them.
I'm sipping anticipation --
what is waiting for me?
I'm alone.
I'm always alone:
we all are,
even on those days when
noise torrents rush through,
sticky fingers keep grabbing,
when I cannot hide, 
even in the bathroom --
I feel the presence
of nothingness beside me,
the field of elsewhere 
others seems to occupy
like a sacred nightclub.

Once I took myself 
to jazz bar on a Thursday afternoon.
Swallowed up in darkness,
music bathed me.
my ice cubes shivered.
A drum solo carried on,
and on, with
a flicker of piano keys under pink gels --
I got lost undercover,
anonymous heap 
on a bench seat, 
'til a stranger opened the door.
There came the sun, 
barging in, a mean spotlight:
for one hot second.
Is today anything special?
I feel the presence 
of nothingness beside me --
I'm waiting for something to happen.

---

Today is April 10, the 70th birthday of author Anne Lamott. She wrote the famous writing book Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life, with its terrific chapter “Shitty First Drafts.”

Every one of my NaPoWriMo poems is a shitty first drafts. I write them fast, give them a quick edit and post them. I don’t want to slow down the process or I might not get these done at all.

If you are a writer or want to try to be one, Bird by Bird is a great book to have on your bedside table.

Thanks for reading. Happy Wednesday!