We Already See So Much

It’s easy to be torn by a fiction

Of indecision, since the fact of that

Fiction is the feeling of being torn.

Aphorisms are never congruent

With the truth. They are either half-truths or

One-and-a-half. You’re at about a third.

Should you entertain yourself, do some work,

Go outside in the hot sunshine, get out

The camp chair and set it up in the shade,

Or change into your swim gear, pack a bag

And go to the lake before it’s too late—

Or get that work done you’ve been putting off?

Like as not, you’ll get an urgent phone call

From a family member or notice

Something’s wrong with the sink that needs fixing

Now, all the more so since it’s not your sink.

No matter what, the day will pass, and you

Will pass or go on at the end of it,

Bundle of minor triumphs and regrets,

Yet another person who didn’t do

Some miraculous thing to save the world.

Will you just look at the light in this room?

Isn’t that something? Isn’t that something?

It won’t stay in the leaves. There’s a siren.