Freewrite: Ennui #1

Posted by in Writing

I sit
in the box,
legs cocked up in rebellion

the sunroof wide open
like the thighs of a hooker
letting in heat;

or the roar of the wind

I sit
in skinny jeans and tan socks
because I want to be
what I used to be
but I’m not.

So also,
a long dress that falls mid-shin
and shell top shoes
still intact on the broad side.

I want
to get out of here
to take a moment for tea
and attention to breath

to get lost in the bird talk
I long to decipher.

But I keep myself
squarely here
and let just a little
of the breeze come in.

I hold to strange dreams
that dissolve at first light:
intangible growths-
the cancer of anxiety.

And like the birds,
I want to unravel them:
To find meaning in their strangeness
To find signs from God;

but there isn’t time.

So I sit
with my legs cocked up
and take a moment
to write this poem
at least;

consider the lake
the air out there
wanting to have it all
or maybe nothing
or just not the box.

I sit.

How weary I am
always always
I am only breathing,
I think,
to bide my time.