Tag Archives: procrastination

Smoke Detector Spaceport

It hangs down, suspended into the air. Circles upon circles, the top (technically bottom) has two rectangular holes that look like windows. You lie back on the ground and spend time thinking about what conversations could be happening in a hub like that, attached to a larger ship or space station, isolated, hanging out, vulnerable to the vacuum. The vistas. The puffy jumpsuits. The cool, detached computer voice giving updates and alerts. The mundane commute from the rest of the complex. Wonder eventually replaced with banality.

You picture this, staring up at the ceiling, action figures of your mind acting out tiny scenarios. You do not think about it, but it feels like a better way to spend your afternoon than merely changing the batteries.

A First Draft

He sat down, with a fresh pen he had lifted from behind the counter at the end of his shift, and said out loud, “I’m starting the list.” This was going to be it — all the ones he needed to contact, to review and maybe reconcile. Their fault, his fault. Either way, they would talk it over. The people who were necessary.

The sky dimmed to black, and the purple-white LED streetlight flicked on outside his window. When he put the pen down, his list consisted of a stick figure lion, an old school Metallica logo, and thirty eight spirals. He was tired, and the opening shift started in a few hours.

On The Horizon

When the moon hangs
low in the sky,
three times its normal size
Too muted to be glowing,
yellow like old parchment,
an original constitution
Even the heavens are slumping,
not able to give their all

A Fleeting Distant Noise

Sometimes there are random noises during the middle of the night, the times when no rational person should still be awake and functioning. Not the usual whir of a hovering copter or wave-crash of the freeway. It’s a creaking and crunching off in the distance, and some thumps, like someone is rooting around in the world’s basement. And it doesn’t make sense, but you immediately think it’s the end. The end of it all. A flash and a wall of sound and a rushing, ripping, pulling everything apart at the seams. Maybe cosmic, maybe divine, maybe just the endgame of humanity’s ingenuity and cruelty. Is this going to be it? Was that all it was? You can picture it, and you don’t want to move or look out the window. You’d rather just let it happen.

Then it’s nothing, of course. Someone moving something, or a truck on a ridge-filled road, or something or other. The ads end, or you press play on iTunes, and you go back to whatever you were doing before. You’re too embarrassed at having such a catastrophic impulse that you don’t take the opportunity to reflect on the panic. You calm your heart by saying that this might be a funny thing to tell people about, a tiny anecdote of a stupid thing you did. But the right situation never really comes up.

It May Be Quite Simple, But…

I’m a little bit chubby, handles on the sides.

I wear baggy clothes so it easily hides.

I don’t have much money, but girl if I did

I’d pay for a trainer to get me fit.

 

If I run each morning—but then again, no—

or I plan to shop only Whole Foods and Trader Joe’s

(I know it’s not much, but it’s the best I can do),

I’ll swallow my pride and slim down for you.

 

And you can tell everybody, “This is my man.”

I may be unsightly, but give me a chance.

I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind that I’ve put on some weight.

I’m starting this diet Men’s Health says is great.

 

I’ll sit on a bike and spin my ass off.

Yes, a few of these muscles, well they’ve gotten quite soft.

My body was quite fine—I had rock-hard abs—

and for someone like you, I would get it back.

 

So excuse me for letting myself go this way.

You see, back in college I worked out every day.

Anyway, the thing is, what I really mean:

you won’t be ashamed to be seen with me.

 

And you can tell everybody, “This is my man.”

I may be quite frumpy, but I’ve got a plan.

I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind that I’ve put on some weight.

I promise you someday I’ll get back in shape.

 

I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind, but if you wait you’ll see

how wonderful I’ll look eventually.