Here, there and everywhere else...

The luckiest day of the year
is slowly being swept away.
A walk in the sunshine
is sarcastically screaming at me
"life isn't always so keen!"
while I make my way home.
Past familiar cars.
Past humble stretches of property.
Past neighbors old and new;
known or not.
Past my passed past.
Every day is not like today
save for it's beginning and ending.

The least-likely day of the year
is shaping up nicely as nothing
special to be ecstatic or concerned about.
I see every fallen tree as a reminder
of what it's like to live a life without.
If I had a poem for every let-down I've
either caused or faced,
I could offer a subscription to Literature Weekly
with a prescription
for some pretty serious anti-depressants.
But it isn't the pain of being let down
that matters so much.
It's the joy in getting there.
The weather is prototypical.
I'm just lazy and weak.

The loveliest day of the year
is catching me sleeping on the train tracks.
The problems in my heart are leaking
and filling up my head.
Where do you go to donate love?
I've got so much to give.
It keeps me from being lonely, sure,
but it doesn't stop me from being alone.
Maybe I'm my own worst
gunman-in-the-tall-grass
with the way I fend off chicks
by my ridiculous style and independence.
Or overindulgence;
my love being relegated to a condiment
on a girl's ego sandwich.

The longest day of the year
has little to do with today.
There's always something better out there
that someone has heard of
and someone else
has something to compare.
Be not scared. Be not immune.
Be not shy or insincere. Be true.
If I've seen nothing, I believe
I've seen enough to say as much for you.
Just keep doin' what ya gotta do.
But in my life I've seen it all
and everything left
is simply
filling in what's in-between.