Day



It's a benevolent universe.

Some days you just know.



Kicking your feet

off the side of the bed

down to the floor

again

in the pre-dawn

gloom...



I worked with a fellow,

once,

in ladies' shoe sales.



Ed, in Atlanta.

Who passed

the assimilated mantra

on to me,



in (to his undying credit)

an offhand moment:



Sometimes

you just have to say fuck it

It's always something...

...and it's always some bullshit...



In the pre-dawn

gloom and redundant

thaw of

this soon-to-be bright

February day



I feel a wanting.

To enter into some kind

of mental clearing.

Some clarity.



The feeling brings

the wayback

retail postulate

back to the fore.



It's true:

They can depress your wages.

They can surely depress your outlook.

But they can't touch your soul.



Your process



Introduce some new fish

into your inner aquarium.



Having thus

assimilated

the postulate,

I wish all



a good night