“Inhibited”

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“Tundra” © C.P. Hickey 2017

 

 

 

“Inhibited”

All of the words.

An expressive and bitter, “No!”

A sigh.

A wrinkled nose, from unkempt nose hairs.

The minute my hands are involved with dish soap.

Doggie scratching on the door.

The mail carrier ripped important correspondence shoving it into your cast iron mailbox.

Molded plastic breaks when stepped on, and finds soft tissue on a foot sole.

The bus escapes the nearest stop, just as I turn the corner of the driveway.

Gone.

Absent.

Left for life.

Left for dead.

Depot driven.

The long cold walk.

Concrete sprawling out, out, and forever.

The river’s edge.

Depths of frozen sleep.

The sky suffocates my passage.

Doesn’t recognize or care to remember my boot imprints in the snow.

It melts gradually, and meets the sewer grate for the trip to the harbor.

Halfway house spectacles line the corridor leading to transit.

Coffee and cigarettes substitute for harder gravities.

My hardship brethren walking the walk.

Life is hard for all.

It’s hard to set parameters for yourself, when they’ve already been set well in advance of your arrival to this fucking circus.

“Perfect Purpose”

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“Mullet Mayhem” © C.P. Hickey 2018

 

 

“Perfect Purpose”

The residual snow melts neatly as daylight gains a foothold.

Winter winds pinch less around the cheekbones, now.

Bitterness abates.

A vocation for longer stretched out days develops.

Prayers fall on listening ears,

and answers appear readily to balance the ledger.

Hard fought, wicked winter victory.

Triumph of warmth.

Keep rolling, calendar days, until the first frost appears on the fall pumpkin patch.

Then, the cozy woolen blankets will be retrieved for their perfect purpose.

There’s No Day Like a Snow Day

snow

Awakened to new fallen snow.
Wait! It hasn’t stopped.
Alas, since last evening, though,
Two whole feet have dropped.
Shall I call to work just yet?
No! Wait a little longer.
Remaining in a state of fret,
Apprehension grows much stronger.
Will I call, or won’t I call?
Maybe it gets worse?
Putting off, will only stall,
The eventual report.
My mind was made, some flakes ago.
Why am I afraid?
It won’t matter if I show,
I will still get paid.
Perhaps, an email? Perhaps, a text?
What if they say no?
What excuse to think of next?
One beyond reproach.
Oh, do it now, just call out.
I’m sure others have as well.
Timely, came this snowy bout,
Opportunity, downward fell.
White canvass touching all around.
Begin this day to treasure.
Now call the boss, abet, aground,
and start some magic leisure.