Sunday Dinner
Buzz, a noncommittal slumber
yelling through the whole space.
Special time turned to chaos before the relax.
This way or that, why do you even ask.
Why
do
I
try? What should I try anyhow?
Same old, same old, same old.
This and that or that and this.
So and so of so and so.
All extra guests in this new smell of organization.
All extra guests,
intruders that we let lull in the loom of our words.
lull in the loom of what we say is right, or wrong.
We sieve, slowly, snap and the sight,
the sight of others doing our work, because that is a lack of order.
We nag, nag, nag, nag, at the runners.
Runners running from the ritual.
Whether is is washing, or tradition, they are running.
All guests,
All extra guests,
All leave, or are sent out to dry.
Then I dry. I dry without the we or the us or the extra guests.
I dry on my own, because I have run.
I dry on my own, because I am now away.
I like to dry, to feel thin after the damp of the dreary event.
Another end.
To something that never ends.
Tradition.
The Next Steps
I am moving on now, to my next part of life. The next chapter as the cliche would say. The next chapter of a book that will never end but will continue to flourish and advance and be the best book you will ever write.
I am more of an adult now that I seemed even a few month ago when years told me I was an adult. Adulthood was not given to me by age but by accomplishment and certification and graduation and now independence. I want to be independent but it scares me.
It scares me, but i am still taking the next steps.
