That's life,
My father, who is
naturally too
Irish, said. It's short.
Life, said my mother
is more than enough.
Too many people come up
short just by giving in.
In this life
our task is
to eat-drink-love-laugh too
much so we don't come up short.
Life pushes you. It
is a party guest with
too much to eat and drink
short-changing the waiters.
BUT
Life is too short to
crush hard-boiled eggs
count gray hairs and lost loves
eat boiled potatoes without butter
spend your last nickel on toothpaste
grind your teeth at 3 am
lick cupcake frosting alone
squelch a red-headed spirit
iron a funeral shirt
chase after unresolved chords
deny yourself peppermint sticks
lasso empty promises
explode airy castles
flood your soul's doorways
choke on inconstant love
serenade a fickle mailman
say nothing to the boy with dimples.
Short, too, as life, is
Christmas morning
the savoring of an eclair
the bloom of an iris
the butterfly's sojourn
the chance to be heard
the leaping gait that scales fences
the twinkle in your blue eyes
our days of courtship
our nights of bliss
the pause before the tsunami hits
