Diary

All morning, the Work,
interrupted by a talk with an old friend
about the weird weather.

More Work, then more talk with another friend
about him fearing the future.
I have a lot of that to say, too.

To the store for dinner.
An old man counting out his wallet
while the cashier waits.

Late-day coffee.
The woman in front of me
clutches keno tickets.

Homeward bound
with a few bags of food
and new music in the car stereo.

Warmer now
than I was at midday.
Broke, wired, but feeling lucky.

Good things ahead, I hope.
I get the oven ready and begin,
still humming.

I can’t wait to feed another.
I can’t wait to be fed.
I cannot wait to forget the diary

and leave the entry
till tomorrow, when I may choose
to say nothing about today at all.