I don’t have much. My attention span feels thin today. Reading Poem-a-day, something about a duplex, I’m left uninspired by the language and really wondering when “This” will appear. Some days are like that and I just want to let it be. I’m giving myself a pep-talk as I write this. You can do it.

I am always hopeful when I make plans. Hopeful that when that day arrives I’ll still be hopeful enough to see plans through. I can’t cancel again, it’s too suspect. Three strikes and I’ll be out, so I have to keep my plans today.

The caffeine doesn’t seem to be working today. Maybe a shower will do the trick. Other things need attendance today. Check boxes empty and waiting. Unpaid bills bulging in my paper planner.

I travel briefly to Paris and find a Quarter, but the only trigger in that town was a dime. Inadequate. I wonder why they made the dime smaller than the nickel. Who decided that was a good idea? This question is about as far away from poetry as one can get. Like standing on Earth and looking up at Mars in the night sky, neither tragic nor romantic. Just a red question that never looks any different and is entirely inconsequential.

Typical. The over-explanation. Still working on that.

I open the messaging app and see where I left off—an open thread with my dad. He’s alone and I offered yesterday to come back over today and walk the lake with him. But like father like daughter like chickenshit. I don’t text, I close the app and toggle back to this.

Then board the Commuter Train. It’s an amusing story about babysitting crocodiles but it’s not amusing. It’s tragic. Poor girl and her invented words and broken heart and dead crocs. Written well enough to make you feel sorry for the babysitter too, who neglected them and let them die.

I get the metaphor. And it makes me think of my own crocodiles.. and also those of the friend I have plans with today and also my dads.

I’ve never been in charge of his crocodiles before. Now suddenly I am. Suddenly is the worst kind of tragedy. Suddenly the lake by his house has turned from dream to daily reminder. Suddenly everything is a reminder.

A week ago he stood between my sister and I behind the dining table and said “Why’d you have to leave me” and “I was supposed to go first.” And Just like that I’m tearing up again.

I need to put pants on and text him back. Or better yet call.

I suppose I can afford to cut this short if I’m headed back to the lake today.

The bills and checkboxes can wait. I’ve got crocodiles now.

Peace and Love,
~Miss SugarCookie