Monday, June 26, 2017

Life Is too Short

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.


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


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