Four more hours to make this year more than a blur.
Four more hours to make a shopping list of habits.
Four more hours to ignore football.
Four more hours to stop wondering if they’ll text.
Four more hours for one more poem.
Four more hours for forty of them.
Four more hours to chew on my lips.
And a year to fill all over again.
Thank you, neighbors, for your illegal fireworks.
I had forgotten that my dog could bark
since this afternoon when you ran through my yard.
Thank you for your need to end things explosively,
for your belief that throwing your noise into the air
will make the silence in your ears
ring a little less.
The fog has teeth here.
The phones shake.
The reads are mindless,
the leaves blink.
The water rivets in the glass.
The swallows sing.
I’m not sure what the difference is in beginning or ending.
Bonus talk time! I decided to write something and typed these on the spot. They’re a little more rhythmic than usual, and I’m not sure if it’s too sing-songy or if it works or what.
How do y’all feel about New Year’s? Who has the most annoying neighbors? Do they still shoot off fireworks even though they themselves own pets? Like 20 blasts in a row? I am easily annoyed when I’m trying to enjoy my Mythbusters marathon and crank out the last lines of 2014.
I hope the year has treated you all well and that the next one is improved. If you’re online right now, feel free to rant about those living around you or share your New Year’s traditions or anything—you are worth missed Mythbusters. Love to you all!