Jul 092011

by Alan Brit

(For Shasta)

Come on, little heartache;

up those steps.

Sure, I’ll give you a hand.

What’s today?


Pretty soon we’ll invent

new days of the week,

since it doesn’t matter, really,

what we call things,

especially things fashioned

from ideas meant to check daily existence

off the calendar, as opposed to, say,

dragging an arthritic hind claw

across the carport pavement,

or wobbling against asbestos tiles

and noticing for the last time

a tile’s crinkled texture,

its white powdery skin,

plus that ubiquitous chip at its edge

resembling a petroglyph of your youth.