In Earnest
Jul 30, 2017 · 1 min read

On some summer street
A dog cries out in earnest,
and I thinking that I’m still alive.
The days haven’t ended yet,
my losses aren’t so special
yesterday happens all the time
so why live like a fugitive of tomorrow
when the radio on the ledge proclaims
that love is patient and love is rationed,
at all times, across the nation. All you have
to do is survive.
Postpone your death a little longer, write
a little more poetry in coffee shops, catch up with
God more often, and say the days aloud when
the sky overhead seems dark.
