A good day to do nothing
It is a good day to do nothing except sit on the balcony,
sip black coffee thick as tar, and read Borges
as our star reaches its deadly summit: noon.
There are so many things I have forgotten.
And so much that is worth knowing
that I will never learn.
There is so much in my world
that could have happened but didn’t.
And I will go on wasting my life, sleepwalking through the days
like everyone else, with a coward’s willingness to accept
‘the way it is’, with a sensibility that is hopelessly divided;
as the elusive happiness I am unable to hold
slips through my trembling fingers like sand.
forgottenpoet 