Rituals

The city does not make it easier.

First there is the house.
Yesterday's leftovers,
Skin turned to dust,
Coating all surfaces.

Pick them up,
Put them away.
Stray socks,
Dirty glasses,
Stained cigarette ends.

Feed the dog
Pick the poop.
Water the plants,
Straighten the droop.

There is also the spouse
Who needs tending,
A little bit of mending,
A constant bending
Of rules, empty codes
You might have made.

Hire a ride.
Haggle,
Fight a daily war.
Knot those thirty miles
Of noise, and fumes,
Speedbumps,
Odours.
Throw them all
Into a blackhole
Of unremembering.

An accident today.
A crashed car.
A jangled spine.
A broken light.
A broken resolve.
A cussword.
Or ten.

The city does not make it easier.