Simple by Terry Bain


April Fourth

I want simple
Today. A walk?
But, once I 
consider a walk 
, even around
the block, doesn’t 
seem simple, me
and the dog
, our needs
complicated, various
, tumultuous. For

example remember 
where I live
, how to get 
home again, and 
take my phone (
if it’s dark) so 
I can shine a 
light where 
dog remains 
wait, how to flip 
the bag just so
, to tie it off and 
carry it along, my 
dog-walk purse
, disposable but 
necessary and
for some reason 
purple. More

simple, I 
want, more 
simple, if plausible. 
A cup of coffee?
But don’t imagine 
its orginin, who picked 
it the seed from 
Ethiopia, Indonesia
, Guatemala, Costa 
Rica, dried and sorted
, shipped, roasted
, packaged, displayed
, purchased, ground
, steeped, filtered
, drunk, cooled
, reheated and drunk 
again. This. Isn’t simple.

Awake. The day, the 
night, tv. A movie? 
Ideas and laughter, what
—my God—what 
is funny? What does 
this mean? What is 
good? Is this good? 
Am I enjoying my

Fool. Me. Forever. Do I 
understand the word 
“simple?” Is it 
possible there is 
nothing simple? Is 
it possible I complixify 
every simplicity?


Terry Bain is the author of You Are a Dog and We Are the Cat ‡ TwitterInstagramLetterboxdTinyLetter
Copyright 2019 Terry Bain