“I have an idea!” I think.
And so it starts.
I begin something new.
Learning guitar
Is the latest,
That dust collector in the corner.
Yoga practice, once a week, once a month,
Or sometimes only in my mind.
For about two days one February
On the steps of the Nelson Art Gallery
It was Kung fu
(I still miss it, though I cannot stand on my hands).
“I think I’ll start jogging!”
And so I run to the corner
And around it
And then I walk home
And put the shoes away.
Mom bought me a Christmas cross-stitch, years past,
A snowman, giddy, on a sled.
I still have not finished it.
It isn’t even counted cross stitch!
When I was single,
Different men looked like pastimes
Matt, who made me dinner
On Valentine’s Day
And bought me a scarf.
I kicked him out early
So I could go to Will when he summoned.
I buy empty spaces,
Books and journals.
They cram into shelves.
They all look different,
Like the men did.
I fill a page or two, eventually,
But never with the idea that caught
When I bought.
“I have an idea,” I think
“Something for all this time,
For this body,
This mind.”
Each passing day, I want to fill it.
Yet, each morning, I wake
Empty again.
