A Better Day

I select enough cigars

for hours, scribble

small talk

in a corner of light

near a rhododendron bush.

The back beat of wood being split,

the “Dark Side of the Moon” through an open window,

nothing disturbs me today—not even the crows.

Red wine, almost chewy, softens

the afternoon to a pleasant deformity.

What do I care if someone sees me and thinks

I must be mad? I will write it down.

If a plane flies by, I write it down.

There is nothing I won’t write about today!

I’m a lost child who finds himself and collects the reward.

I knock and remove the top of my head like a hat.

I begin my lopsided song of love.

Today is a better day,

what happened last night is over.