Tag: Her

attempting to relate the story to something in my every day life
“it’s like going to the corner market for milk and coming back with
a can of SPAM and two pickles”

but it doesn’t measure up, nothing ever will, so you don’t try again
you just settle back in your chair and watch the snow fall on the
street and sidewalk and cars

but you do try again, there’s no way you can’t

trying to start a fire in the gas fireplace is an exercise in futility,
as a distraction from your problems it is the worst example,
you just twist a knob and press a button, no need for kindling
and matches and such

if only you could “whoomp” away your worries that easily, there
would be a fireplace in every room, endlessly burning for your
creativity

putting on sandals and heading outside for an icy walk on the
driveway gets you half way to the mailbox before your toes
turn blue, look at the weather, no postman is coming today
this was an exercise in futility

there is nothing you can do that will measure up to the way
you felt when you were with her, your ordinary with her is more
extraordinary than anything you can experience without her

glb /// “attempting to relate the story to something in my every day life”
originally published 01/29/2014