Paper Days

"A Reunion From A Dream" (Sep. 29, 2015)

I fell to bed & thought:
What a paper day.
Thin, how it flipped by––or was ripped
& crumpled, even––then kicked to a bin.

Earlier...after a cereal
bowl I sat, to relieve (you know),
& found the final flush flushing
back––at me.

So stuck a stick in the debris
but was (by this time) already late,
so left it there
for the roommate       to fix.

After work: no roommate, no fix.
The day spent stabbing the stuff, turning
to tempest that lovely liquid, all opaque
like a licorice Atlantic,

raising, from the dead (the deadest, dirtiest dead),
the blubber-clogging body of whatever it was:
who knows. Who cares. The thing
came out & it's all clear now (that's it).

Anyway...couldn't eat dinner tonight.
We've all been there. Just another
paper day (today's: wadded & stuck).
Got stacks of these paper days in a desk

somewhere, or filling to the brim some bin
somewhere & sure, you do too.
We all do: reams & reams & reams...& yet
more reams. Until in dreams, reminding, an epitaph:

'No complaints, just
thankful for the paper &
thoughtful of the days.'