Today
By David Plumb
What of the Life You Supposed?
The moon comes up to remind
you of timeless journeys
giant leaps, promises of more
a screen door in Albuquerque
the motel porch in Kingman
shadows, endless voices
picnics on mountains with no names.
But the road doesn’t always smooth out
no matter the shocks on the limo
the view, the catch of the day.
Sometimes, you wonder where
Susan went, or Elmer.
You suppose he’s still at OTB
in Troy or Albany.
No qualms unless you
can’t get over yourself.
Life chugs along, a breath
at a time, and rolls over
the same bumps
you sometimes like to avoid
simply reflect upon or
go mad, tear up the lawn
get on the roof and bark
set the house on fire
or crack jokes on the phone
with an old friend who knows.
Three-nineteen A.M. snaps you awake
but you’re smart enough
to keep some change
pasted in the right side
of your brain and two cups
of coffee at dawn, a little silence.
Don’t want to talk
because soon, say thirty-eight
minutes or so, you’ll feel
life take hold and settle in.
David Plumb’s writing has appeared in Beatitudes 50 Years, The Washington Post, Instant City, The Miami Herald, Mondo James Dean Anthology-St. Martin’s, One Paycheck Away and Newversenews.com. He is the author of 9 books, the most recent is, Poetry on Strings with marionette maker, Pablo Cano. Will Rogers said, “Live in such a way that you would not be ashamed to sell your parrot to the town gossip.” David Plumb says, “It depends upon the parrot.”