Thank you for The Things I Take for Granted
No one will come into my home uninvited
The elevator door will open
Everything is where I left it
When I turn a key, press a button, or flip a switch, something happens
People smile back
No one will hit me
Grocery store doors open automatically
My car will get me to my destination
I will wake up
My loved ones are safe
My head, my back, my teeth don’t hurt
Public buildings have heat
I can sing
I can go home
My cat will greet me at the door
My money is still in the bank
There is enough food
The hospital is always open
The letter will get there
I don’t have malaria
The plane will take off and land
The map is correct
The coffee is hot
My legs will work
Water will come out of the faucet
The bus will come
My shoes are still tied
My friend answers the phone when I call
Toilet paper
The dish is microwavable
I can get through “it”
The movie will continue until it’s over
You’re a fuckin’ poet. Bank on it. Okay, tell that to the landlord, eh? But, no, really, hey, ya gotta know poetry when you read it, hear it, live it. And, you do. I do.
I love you as poet. I love you as artist. I love you as friend. Your poetry will live long after you give up carrying a purse. Don’t take your purse for granted. I emptied mine in front of a group of women tonight, and it was AMAZING. It was…poetry. (Okay, so maybe ya had to be there.)