writing isn't talking

and talking is only that.
i was going through some papers
sorting bills from the last nine months
sorting envelopes, trying to recycle
some of the paper that's burying me
and wondering exactly how long are you
supposed to keep these things, thinking
of the paint spill on the shed floor
and the piles of junk i didn't even know
were in there, wondering if pumpkin yellow
is the only color paint besides the
spilled can i could use, i'd like to change
my surroundings some, because it looks
like i better get used to my home
even tho the rent just went up again
and it's going to be even harder being a single
mother in the new depression...potato famine...
black plague...global warming whatever the latest
catastrophic worry could be, and how i can't do
anything about it but still i'm recycling
but still i wish i had a shredder so i can prevent
someone working at the recycle center
finding some old bills with the account number
along with my address and charges multitudes
of things on my card before i find out which
could be months because i never open the bills, just
pay the minimum online it's all i can do but just how long
are you supposed to keep those bills anyway
and what's the point those financial institutions
always have a way to make you responsible so faggit about it.
still the upshot is that i have way too much
paper and i'd like to get rid of it, i upacked
a box of things from the fire, repacked them into a beer box
and one of those things was a plaque my aunt gave me
32 years ago when i graduated from high school. it's a picture
of a sunset, a couple of birds across an orange sky i've
carried it with me on too many moves to count it's
always had a place on my wall until this house i guess
it was too deeply hidden so when i pulled it out
i thought of how you've been carrying your past with you
how it eats at your flesh, your desire, your sense o self,
and i thought you might could use it, it says
finish each day and be done with it. you have done what you could
some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in. forget them
as soon as you can. tomorrow is new day. --ralph waldo emerson. i'm
quoting from memory because as soon as i set it on my dresser
to give to you if i ever see you again, it fell between the dresser
and the wall and there it's likely to stay because
why go to all that trouble moving the furniture
when i won't be needing it
as far as i can tell
ever again. then to top it off i found a picture
of the two of us a year ago before all this happened,
when you were still in a dewey eyed belief system and i was
less likely to come off as the crazy person i really am
because well, in love is blind and i have to tell you
that i just couldn't stand to see you there beside her
so i took the picture and cut it in half and put both
of them back into the pile of papers i have earmarked for going
through later when i can throw out more important, but still
obsolete stuff.