Last night I was in a fury.
I woke up at 2:17am
And could not go back to sleep.
I was still angry
From earlier in the evening
When my take-out meal
Which was supposed to save me time
Made me late
For a meeting
I didn’t really want to go to
In the first place.
Fuming in the darkness
Because my husband’s hand
Was touching mine
Seeking contact,
Because his shoulder
Was crowding mine
Seeking space,
Because the dog
Was snuggled between my legs
Seeking warmth,
And the kitten
Lay on my chest
Seeking comfort.
Just get the fuck off of me!
Just everybody STOP
TOUCHING ME!
Stop needing things from me!
This morning I was in a rage.
I had not slept well.
I had an ice pick
Lodged in my skull
And a vice
Clamped on my shoulder.
Oh, and it was raining.
At the front door to my office
Stood a wet young man
Looking up at the sky
In sorrow.
I guess that my notice of him
Invited a response.
“I’ve been inside all week
In a conference
Looking out at the sun,
And the one day I have to
Explore the city
It rains,” he said
With a foreign accent
And one of those grimaces
That says I-am-not-all-that-upset.
“Do you have an umbrella?”
I asked.
He shook his head
And so I handed him mine.
“Really? Thank you!” he said
In wonderment and joy.
As I walked through the door
And past the security guard,
I felt tears on my face
Of release and relief.
Now, I’m just tired
but feel a little freer.
Photo: Umbrella Day by Gregory Bastien, on Flickr