Poem: A DIfficulty Breathing.

A Difficulty Breathing

A deep breath. Not easy to come by.
The yellow goop in your lungs
and a life too full of pain gets in your way,
holds your lungs tight.

But there is music here. Good coffee.
More than that, time.
No hurly burly, no ring tones
or messages. You can sit,

let the diner noises slide over you,
the clank of plates and silverware,
the sizzle on the griddle. conversations
you could listen in on but don’t,

content

to let it all wash over you.
To be a part without being a part.
Body here, mind… Mind drifting
to another time

that may of may or many not have existed,
neither past nor future nor now.
Simply there, surreal and wonderful,
all soft voices and hands touching,

souls connecting, close as skin.

About this poem.

I tried to make the last line a verse. I really did. Tried to follow the pattern, but it just would not let me.

I have a chest cold. So at least I kno where the first line or two came from. I often do that when I am not “feeling it”, just take a line or two from what is happening around me. Write them down, and let the logjam break loose and watch the words tumble.

Sort of an abstract poem, I know, more feeling than thought, stream of consciousness. Alas, don’t ask me what it means when words tumble out without purpose, without plan. Sometimes, I am content to let the flow work without interruption.

My mother would like this poem. She always said I planned too much, looked to the future too much, at the expense of now.

Back to coffee.

Tom