the Sunday paper

sadly,

the Sundays, the long

Sundays

with the newspaper

are gone.

no more

lingering with coffee

in the morning

light

turning page after page,

the news

and sports,

book reviews.

the ink on my fingers,

the smell

of fresh print,

saving

sections for later that

night.

no longer do i chase

down

the baton

thrown into the shrubs

as i go

out in my robe.

i just scroll now

to read about the world.

i scroll

and scroll.

now with your feet up

you slave

away for a good part of your life.

you collect

money,

save it for

a rainy day, for your old age

and then

you sit back

and rest,

staring at the ducks

in the lake.

the work done,

at last with no office to go to,

no boss,

no clock to obey.

this is what you've been

aiming for all

along, isn't it,

now with your feet up,

haven't you won?

wild thing

she was a rough

girl.

she used to bite my lip

when we

kissed. she

angrily pulled on my ears

for no reason at all.

she used to slap me

on the bottom

as we made

love, i had to tell her

to slow down,

i'm not a racehorse.

i have scars from her,

bumps

and bruises,

thatches of my hair

pulled out and left bald.

she was a wild thing.

she worried me in public,

in private,

i still have nightmares

about her,

and miss her, 

although

she was never fit 

to meet mom.

somehow i got there

there's an Atlas

in the closet, a thick book

of maps,

grids,

lines and colorful pages

of counties

and states.

some places marked with

red dots,

places i've been to.

there are road maps as well,

folded up,

dozens of them,

obtained from drugstores

and gas stations,

coffee stained and

torn, the debris of food

embedded in the paper

as i stared at them 

under the dome light of the car,

waiting out

another storm.

the start of a new life

i take

the new shovel

into the yard,

the long handle,

the sharp

blade

and begin to dig

a hole.

by noon

i'm four feet in,

by sunset,

i'm down ten feet

and more.

by morning i expect

to be some where

i've never

been before.

it's the start of a new

life

without you.