The singular silver hair
on his head
was what I counted
instead of sheep
every night
just around 2 a.m.
But it's only one,
and I lay awake
with these lists of my personal
insolence and temperamental
self-control.
I can only estimate how many times he
had to smooth
and comb over
from the ruffling breezes of
exhaled sunshine
now saturated with rain,
or maybe tears...
I can't tell.
I am focusing on making lists.
Many lists.
Lists to keep myself distracted.
Like the full head of hair he has
tucked under a hat.
These are just lucid accounts where
I should beg to brush my fingers across his head
as mine
has not been comfortable for hours.
Actually, days.
Some of which he knew I hadn't slept.
I try to close my eyes.
I will keep quiet.
Whatever makes you happy.
The lists stay awake
breathing heavily at dawn.
His hair, the clock.
My hands.
The pain in my feet.
Cobwebs in the corners
where the ceiling meets the wall...
The wall.
The one I put back up.
I see that it's raining again.
How many other worries can I jot
down tonight?
I stopped counting after one.
Sister's wedding.
Train whistles that sound
just like everywhere else.
I used to think that it was romantic.
I'm not feeling well.
My torn clothes.
Inadequate heat.
Spider bites.
Broken down cars.
Him....Him...her...
Too much coffee.
An entire 6 pack of beer....
The concerns about lies.
Who is lying to me?
Someone... I just know it.
All of the groceries are laying out on the counter.
Rotten, because no one put anything away.
There was a woman on the bus that told
everyone to read the Bible.
I don't think there's ever going to be
an end in sight for me.
No rest for the wicked.
That's what they say about me you know,
and Jesus Christ, I sure am an asshole.
Father, or that other one.
Absentee Mothers.
Alcoholic stepfather.
Award winning, timely exits.
He said I didn't leave a moment too soon.
I usually know when I should,
except that one time...
What about...
half lit cigarettes
strewn across a porch.
Homeless men throwing
beer cans at you as you try
to cross the street.
What's my problem anyway?
She said I was fucking stupid.
He was livid when I wondered why
there wasn't a trace of a smile on his face.
I don't have the right to ask questions anymore.
Don't care.
Just don't give a shit.
Let go!
I dressed up very pretty
last week to find a little confidence,
but the man laying on the sidewalk
said my true colors weren't shining that day.
He was right.
I am not going to ask why.
Back to counting.
1....2....3
It's getting very late.
Breath.
Don't rip your clothes.
You don't need another cigarette.
Calmly now,
try to get some rest.
Think happy thoughts....
There's only one silver hair on his head.
It's my favorite.
