late,
on the uptake,
again.
Should have brought some poetry
to sooth my aching regret.
Usually works;
other words telling me how I'm forgetting.
Feeling a little wore out tired with no place to go.
What took 20 now takes 35 and where did it go anyway?
Can I have it back?
Tomorrow maybe when I have a fresh shirt and clean shoes?
I paid for it; all these years,
with interest and accrued sentimentality.
Makes it worth more now.
You took it when you were half asleep,
you didn't even really need it,
but I do,
It's mine.

plans and schemes for tomorrow are lean,
skimming across the thin skin of regret or maybe just "should have"
Yellow paper aged in pneumonic suspension,
hanging there waiting to snap the holding pattern
so the skin can shine and the sand will stand
between toes and gentle waves
of to and fro