Happy 5:55
Out of my regular
everything,
reticent
to abandoning
the logic-lacking
laminate routine
of the life-sucker,
time-killer
relentless machine.
Maybe I stop here,
maybe I don’t.
Shut up and get out!
Do it now or you won’t.
Victorian farmhouse,
with barn, garage
and a few sheds.
Kept-up, attended
yet none live here,
gone or dead.
As I sat on the steps,
I felt an historic lonely.
How could I have done this?
Oh, if only!
I hadn’t locked in the trunk
my keys.
Wouldn’t have been underneath
pleading “Please,
let the black box containing my spare
have survived all the bumps.
Please, let it be there.”
Then a dusty rectangular
shape met my fingers.
There’ll be no more loitering,
no need to linger.
I’m in, I’m off
happy to be alive.
No more a haunter.
Happy 5:55!