Friday, June 1, 2012

won't you lend your lungs to me/mine are collapsing.

I'm a man of plans
putting the "idea" in "idealism"
and never being particularly worried.

most of the last few weeks
has been spent thinking,
building backups and creating contingencies
in order to be
as my scoutmaster said was so important:
prepared
(it's sort of a motto for some folks.)

and so I've been thinking about work
jobs and incomes and debts and figures,
balancing budgets in hopeful headlights

I packed a suitcase tonight
in preparation for my trip in six hours
a few new shirts, a few old ones,
like a Rolling Stones setlist,
and a pair of fine cowboy boots in the bag
so I can wear the comfy ones on the plane

and I have three different restaurants 
that've been recommended
one for their steaks,
one for their martinis,
one for their service

I've set aside $50
(cash)
to play blackjack
because it's a fun game
and, as you can imagine,
I play simultaneously conservatively and ridiculously,
caution thrown to wind and cash thrown to Saturday night

and I might go a concert
Glen Campbell is playing
he's a favorite, and I have emotional attachment
so I might sneak out
hit the show, maybe have a gin and tonic and think about
how lucky I am to have the father that I have.

this is all written out on a piece of paper
which I'm keeping in my wallet
(I'm serious
and if you don't believe me
I'll send you a picture)
but

when I think of all of my plans
all of my thirty year plans
the house purchases
eastern Oregon crop harvestings
children named for citrus fruit
road trips across the deep south
a wedding chapel in who-knows-where

all I can muster
is that I'd so much rather just throw my suitcase in the trunk
and drive up to Utah
hold your hand at a wedding
and take fervent notes about what worked,
what didn't,
and how much more perfect ours will be.

1 comment:

hosander said...

If you name your child Grapefruit, I'm cutting you off