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cleanClean up your room
Clean up your life
Organize the papers,
One for each day you've been breathing,
Laying scattered and unexamined all over the floor
Sort through clothes
Some clean, others dirty as sin
Or the crimes you unknowingly, innocently committed
Against your lover, your family, yourself
Throw out the trash
Like the month old container of fruit salad
Tucked under papers, not so hidden, in wishful thinking
That it would somehow decide for itself
What should be done with it
It's now that you're made to pay
An examined life sentence
For all the aggravated misdeeds
And the willfully ignorant inactions
With hours spent locked in a room
How can you live like this?
Why do you live like this?
Blue anythingA ladybug
crawls on a piece of blue candy, devouring
it with a voracity one doesn't often see
eating blue candy
I pick it up to show my brother
who promptly asks:
"What flavor is that?"
"It's the blue flavor," I say,
"The flavor that blue things are, like blue Popsicles."
"You mean blue raspberry?" He asks
with his usual condescending sarcasm, and I
But I don't agree.
It's something less definitive—
that intangible flavor that all blue things have—
yet in its own way distinct,
so that even a blind man,
eating a blue candy, would say to himself:
"Wow, I'll bet this is blue."
It's so unique that just
knowing it is coming—
seeing the blue whatever headed for your mouth—
brings that taste to your lips
long before it stains your tongue.
It's the flavor that
everyone knows but no one
refusing to melt2-year-old smiles,
But they arrest
Thoughts floating through my head.
It's give and take,
But mostly give
With tongue frozen,
Realizing I'm a snowflake
To an ice angel.
And that's how it should be.
That's how it has to be.
Frustrated with myself
Because I've known it all along,
Since the snowflake drifted to earth—
Fleeting, quick to melt.
But I've stuck.
All summer I stayed,
Through sun and heat,
The sweat of others,
Despite the foreign world
I fell gently into
With no skills to keep cool.
Because it was worth it to try.
You were worth it.
It's harder now,
Even with the chill winds of Winter,
To learn my 2-year-old lesson:
Sharing is the hardest thing.
Please be patient
As I labor through the winter,
Learning to stick
Though the wind may rip and sting
Until directions melt to one.
Adjusting to this new world
Keep in Touch!