Filling The Circle

I am drawing a blank
on how to start this.
On how to keep it going
long enough to call it done.

I sit so angry and so weary with the fat President,
the old Congress, all the senile judges
and their unblinking masses agreeing or,
more precisely, ignoring.

I am drawing a blank
on where to begin. On how
this got this far. On what part
there is available to act in.

I sit with eyes closed to ads
for erections, old age care,
free money, free food and drink —
and quickly, quickly, all of it.

I am drawing a blank
on where to begin. On how
this got this far. On why, in fact.
On why I kept my eyes open.

I sit with sneering voices
in my head about music, about
the thickness of guitar strings,
about the greatest bands ever to play —

I am drawing a blank
on where to begin. On how
this got this far. On what part
anyone will not sneer at and laugh, laugh.

I close my eyes and if I could
I’d close yours as well and we’d go down
equally unimpressed and afraid
of any reactions to our weariness.

We’d be together and we still would not know
where to begin, but we would begin.
Even raising a finger to it seems small.
Maybe we would have to wave it off and just go?

I am drawing a blank on where to begin.
On how this got this far.
On what part there is available to act in.
On what actions are even worth taking now.

I am drawing a blank, a circle
inside a triangle inside a square,
again and again. Nothing inside the circle.
Only a circle inside, waiting to be full.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T