we stayed up until two
while the family slept
the deep sleep of satiation
thanks to discounted turkey
and cheesy casseroles
prepared but once a year
we covered a lot of ground
my nephew and i
though this was our first year
working together and
strategizing for success
we scored a rare uninterrupted
rambling conversation about
school and family and politics
and money and life and love
and more all in exchange for
only three hours of lost sleep
she asked
how the poems
were organized
and i told her
they weren’t
but that’s not
entirely true
but what’s the use
in saying
they all fall
into one category
colder nights
make sleeping
a little harder
not much
to do but lie
eyes closed
gathering warmth
sinking slightly
slowly into
yielding memory
and foam
the email says that i get
120 characters or less
to answer the question
but i only need 15:
because i could
i thought i could do it
write the poem
delete the poem
be done with the poem
but what came after
was too much time
spent trying to
recreate the poem
a water main ruptured
in the adjacent alley
a few late nights ago
and i sat listening
to the river rushing by
at the sound of thousands
of gallons of water, wasted
my mother woke the next
morning to the same roar
but heard potential in the
furious flow of that false
stream and gathered some
of the gutter-bound liquid
in buckets for her plants
the present seems
so urgent that you
forget it will turn
into the past and we
will still be here like
all the times before
sometimes
you care
so much
it hurts
it’s always after
that i feel it
the foolishness of
stretching myself
a little further than
i was prepared
but in the moment
your pull was too strong
and really, what’s a little
ache compared to regret?
on the way to “potato chip rock”
we passed a hamburger
and what looked like
a pickle in the distance
all good natured teasing of
hungry hikers with a meal
prepped by wind and water
and cooked just right
by the lunchtime sun
loosing the binds 