Day 481, October 19, 2021
My refrigerator forgets to make ice for a week at a time,
it is like a miracle and there is ice again.
The oven runs a little cool.
Muffins do not get a cracked top,
and potato slices only bake a nice crisp if I forget about them
and leave them in for too long.
Every morning I wake up and decide
it is too dark,
I am too sore to ride,
and then some point when I’m in the shower,
I change my mind and think
maybe I could do it.
Then while brushing my teeth I consider the layers I will need.
Depending on any particular week,
the trash does not get picked up,
and instead sits and festers at the end of the driveway,
lures in the curious wildlife,
a fine layer of frost.
When the wind blows,
you can hear the tin cans,
and pie tins.
Sometimes I forget fresh chicken-warm eggs
in my pocket,
and I take them to work with me,
hang them in my jacket behind the office door
for the entire day.
Then ride home
gingerly caressing their shapes gently knocking together
as I pedal.
Even a crisp fall day, is imperfect.