THURSDAY POEM ON A MONDAY NIGHT
May 15, 2006
Yesterday the forecast was raining-rotten
a thunder storm swept through town
and a lightning strike caused a surge
that damaged my thirteen inch bedroom TV.
It was a Christmas gift from my parents in 1997.
The screen is now colored with green and purple splotches.
I watched the season two finale of Grey’s Anatomy on it anyway.
It was the episode where the pretty doctor falls in love with her patient.
Izzie is dressed up in a gorgeous pink ball gown, ready for prom at the hospital
but before she goes to the dance, she stops in to check on her love, Denny Duquette.
Denny has suffered a stroke and is already dead. Izzie lies with him in bed
when the Snow Patrol song starts playing, exploring that question of bliss:
If I lay here, if I just lay here—would you lie with me—and just forget the world?
I turn off my broken TV and feel a brooding despair wash over me.
I’m somewhere in between what has passed and what is next.
I sit at my desk with an open Word Document and listen to
the new Thursday album called A City by the Light Divided.
I write along to the music and I may not always know
who I am or what I want to do with my life
but I’m always searching, always writing
trying to find wonderment in the night
staying up until it feels like
I am with you, whoever you are
when it reaches the end of the line.