More than Boredom

Making that trip to the corner store
to grab a chance on the lottery.
And don’t forget the pack of cigarettes ….
each day becomes the next and so on.
Weekends once offered a reprieve from tedium.
No more.

Imagine what might have been …
A cobbled walk through the village shops to
the Irish pub
a shot of golden red whiskey to cut the damp chill.
Steam rising off the shoulders of those joined in song
waving their mugs of ale to fortify the high notes.

And then, on that rare sunny day
perhaps a sojourn
through fields of wild heather,
offering their earthly scent.
A prompt for the sweet recollections of “Someday I will …”

Imagine the craggy cliffs along the shore
dotted with lavender scrub and
the haphazardly constructed neighborhoods of terns nests,
The sea salt assaulting the senses.
Beckoning … encouraging the risky climb downward
to the shoreline’s ebbing tides.
The temperate winds causing your own clothing to billow
and long hair to fan out in waves like exotic silk
and a rosy glory brightening your otherwise cream colored cheeks.

Tomorrow may be my day!

Tomorrow I will make my usual trip to the same corner store.
Grabbing my chance on the lottery
and my usual brand of cigarettes.
My prison of repitition.
My prison of boredom.
My prison of fanciful dreams.
Back home
a vast flatland of common tasks to perform awaits.
A vast wasteland of sameness and responsibility steals my reverie.
Flatland or flatline?

More than Boredom


Joined September 2012

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