Everydayness

​Walked home under a sky full of gray
— Midsummer sadness always brings heavy rain.
Walked slowly… No rush, not even a bit.
I wanted time to wonder if tomorrow is going to be
More of the same, as it always is
.

.

.
Fed the neighborhood cats, the stray and the wanderer;
Washed my hair…

(Listened to Sinatra while doing that)
Brushed out the curls, let it down. 

Saw my reflection and swore to myself
I could break a mirror or two, but I know
Everyone would say I’m still seventeen (nineteen on bad Mondays!). 
No lines or traces of sorrow,
Just dark circles and dry lips
.
Friday night, work tomorrow morning:
This shut-in stays home with a lot of free time
To indulge in nostalgia and old books,
Memories of ex-lovers and daydreams of future ones;
To ponder over this and that
And wish she could adopt those poor cats
.
Alone, always thinking
If tomorrow will be different.
Christ,
Too much thinking
Has always been the worst of my habits
.
ML

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