16 days without

can’t explain why
it is so hard to understand why
it began almost twenty years ago
follow the leader and got hooked
like all the other fools
sucking on smoke can’t explain why
still not easy by now to feel
as though quitting has been a success
drinking coffee and trying to find something
to fill the void where once a cigar was held
now with a pen trying to write my way
out of the habit I don’t want to miss
but I do
it’s been sixteen days
shouldn’t be hard to make it one more…

eleven times three

hard to look into the glass
showing who I am to others
see it different eyes seeing Fall
in the air all around
each corner holds something
still is not quite right
now is the only time held
close so it will not disappear
too fast already a memory
only made to fade
like the color of this shirt
hard to look into the mind
left alone will flip out of control
what is seen and heard
by the smallest ears in the house
still knows the sound
of my voice heard as I try
to sleep anytime of day
fine for some rest of the day spent undoing
the rest gathered over the closed eyes hours
hard to look into the eyes
of the self my worst critic
analyzing every move made
every brick laid before feet
as I walk from there
to here and back to where
I started to see clear
like the skies until the clouds
push themselves between
these eyes and the sun 
working hard until the day is done...

pointing out the obvious

afternoon sun reaching through trees
the cat joins me at the table
neighbors are starting to get loud
labor day weekend
summer's last dance
until the next time around
pointless thoughts
pointing out the obvious
to anyone paying attention
given to a random detail
burned out fire smell in the air cooler now
afternoon sun and the birds will sing all day long
and the cat falls asleep against my arm...

wouldn't have known it then

I work in a different kind of market now
still selling the food
still stacking the fruit for the most part
all the workers are a little friendlier different from in the typical market
even the customers are less irritated almost glad to be there
some who come every day
just like the old market where I was nearly twenty years
the regulars who knew me by name
work passes faster in a different kind of market
still miss that sixth day of work
and the higher pay gone in a blink of an eye
an extremely unfortunate turn of events
somehow all for the best
wouldn't have known it then
when the entire life got changed
no one in the old market had my back
let me walk and burn the bridge
thoughts are different in a different kind of market
still selling the food
still stacking the fruit for the most part
it's all the same eventually
even in a different kind of market...