Work Harder
       

I'm tired of what I can do—
Make lists of things I don't like,
explain the plains of North Dakota
to kill a conversation,
discuss chocolate with strangers.
Other people can
weld, swim, twirl a baton—
I'm tired of this too,
and whatever else there is to do.
What I hate most is what nobody can do.
I work to forget these things.
When I cut into a mango on the right day
I am working.
When I imagine five ways to grin,
I work.
Watching fog, snoring— I call it work,
and it keeps me busy until
I see you walk up Sixth Street.
The things I can't do,
you know every one.
You're just a person.
Tell me what does that mean.
You and I
do what everyone does
and (don't say it) say it has meaning,
say (wait) I have feelings.
What I can do,
I am so unsafe,
is kiss my own hand, which I hope you'll still take—
even though it's been done (we are boring)
done (hang around until tomorrow)
done (tomorrow there's so much to do).

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Copyright © 2011 Carrie Oeding All rights reserved
from ouliofso
42 Miles Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission