Pizza Friday
my head’s a blender:
all the coursespace items to upload, and the overdue paperwork, and insurance calls for the cracked windshield, and my dad’s kidneys are failing, and he’s the same age as Dolly Parton and Tim Curry, who just died, and the advisees need feedback, and I need to bathe, and all the apples are beginning to rot, but I just went to the store, and —
I drive to daycare, hug Celeste, and leave her there
without putting $2 in the Pizza Friday envelope
(she’s in a new classroom now;
the space changed, and in my state of distraction, my mind discarded all rituals of the space)
she had to sit, foodless, watching all her friends eat pizza
while the staff looked for some extra catering for her to eat
what I wish for is a void
somewhere outside of time
to collect myself at my own pace
somewhere life doesn’t have to keep happening all at once
somewhere I can regroup, rethink how to live in this world
without missing everything
without letting everyone down
(there’s nowhere to disappear without letting everyone down)
in the meantime, i wish at least
for an end to pizza-less Fridays
to make a pizza box shield \
to protect her from my fragile attention