By watching
a young child
become enveloped
with honest-to-God
glee
just by
eating a piece of
frosted cinnamon roll,
I see that I too
should look
forward to the simple things
more often.
In all honesty it makes
me kind of sick to read what
I just typed.
How cliché and
regurgitated it sounds.
But I am no different
than any other soul
out there
in the world,
plugging along—
getting buy
but not really enjoying
the present
and always looking forward
to what will be.
I am quite certain
I have forgotten to live
with awareness
to my surroundings.
Half the time
I’m zoning out,
always itching to get off work
or putting my ipod in to
flush out
the rest of the world.
Yes,
time is irrevelant
in some instances,
but morbidly I see
that I am about
one-fourth
of the way through my life
(unless technology becomes
untouchable and allows for
people to live ridiculously
past their natural threshold
of age.)
I need to remember
to skip
instead of walking
the way I do.
(Always big strides,
always in a hurry)
I remember an old
boyfriend of mine
would always try to
get me to
slow
down.
It annoyed me.
Half the time I don’t even
eat a meal sitting down—
I’m either driving
with my knees
and trying not to crash
or I’m scarfing food while
there are no customers
at the bakery where I work.
I would imagine it would feel
strange to me now,
foreign,
to sit down,
with a family of sorts,
and eat at a home.
Years ago
my immediate family
lost track of the whole
“family dinner” trend.
We all retired to sitting
in front of the television
or eating
somewhere else altoghether.
To myself I think—
“Maybe
I should try
yoga
or
meditation”
to relax and
regroup
from the day.
But I don’t,
I’ve been saying that for years.
I do like to run though,
it makes me release all the tension—
all the smart-ass comments I’ve bottled up
so I can act pleasant
to the imbecile customers
that walk through the bakery’s door.
At least today—
today I felt like smiling
all day long,
and laughing to myself
about the previous night’s silly
drunken debauchery and
shameless flirting with
the rugged bartender at
my favorite pub.
Last night I laughed so hard
I was doubled over –
tears pouring from
my eyes:
A boy had written me a note saying,
“Have you ever kissed
A black fuzzy bunny
between his ears?”
While I’m reading the note,
he pulls out his pockets
so that each would resemble
an ear.
Clever,
slightly disgusting,
I
loved
It.
It was interesting,
and unexpected.
A week and a half later
I am still smiling because of it.
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See, I just read this and couldn't get past the word "itching."
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