i left two pieces of toast unattended
while sorting a self-regenerating pile of laundry,
the toast caught on fire
and burned for some time
filling the kitchen with a surprising amount of smoke
i opened the front door
and the back door
and our house became a tunnel of wind
the baby and i watched, astonished
as it barreled past us
like a train
driving north on a rainy tuesday,
they’ve finished the suicide fence on the Aurora bridge
its not an insurmountable obstacle
but people won’t be able to stand there,
on the edge
contemplating the leap,
like they did in the old days.
Now, they’ll have to clamber over
it seems like it would be harder to change your mind
from this position.
childproof caps are not always childproof, but
“the human body can tolerate a great deal of ibuprofen without adverse affect”
or so I am told by the nice man at Poison Control
and I sit there after he hangs up
watching the baby
who may or may not have eaten any pills,
and think of all the things we survive
just to become children
we should give ourselves more credit
the prayer flags are snapping and twisting in the wind
while the sleeping dogs lie
it occurs to me that I’ve used the word doldrums several times lately
without being entirely clear on the meaning.
so i look it up.
and the definition delights me.
the doldrums are a place…
a band of the earth near the equator
where the north winds and the south winds converge
its a low-pressure zone, where things are calm
and ships got trapped in the old days
because there wasn’t enough wind to fill their sails
it seems to me that the doldrums aren’t actually depressing at all
but rather, are a good place for contemplating
one just needs to get out the oars.