This morning I can’t find a thought to anchor

the boat of inner peace I’ve been trying to sail

in bad weather for god knows how long.

Some mornings it’s easy to slow myself down

and wait for my waves of emotion to die down

until I can see to the bottom of why I care so

much and to what end. But this morning is one

for the weather in my head to blow down.

Experience tells me tonight will be just as

ungrounded. I’ll arrive home from work to sit

in my chair in front of one of my favorite

programs on Netflix.

4 hours later I’ll realize it’s time to go to bed,

an empty bowl of what was once rotini and

marinara on my lap,

the perfect aftermath to a day spent floating

in the shark-infested waters all low-income,

worker poets know will always keep them just

barely afloat and alive enough to work and

write for another day in paradise.