Entropy

Entropy

The fact is

I’m lazy:

indolent, lethargic, sluggish,

idle, torpid, apathetic

slothful:

the whole Roget’s accumulation.

My words are flabby,

from lack of exercise

and my image-maker’s on the fritz.

Too much sun—or

not enough. Too few

walks in the rain

and long boring drives

in which phrases bloom

and fireworks ensue.

My carefully-crafted act

is crumbling and

I no longer dare 

to fling my words into the void

and myself after them

in the entropy-defying

high-wire act

called poetry.

Departures

Departures

If I must go

(and they say I must)

let me go with

laughter

bubbling round me,

with remembered good times

and inside jokes reverberating

through the room.

Drown out the medical beeps and burbles;

and camouflage institutional walls

with bright chatter

and brighter visions of who we were,

who we are, and

how much more we can be.

Let me slip away

in the midst of the party,

before the drinks run low and the talk

gets serious.

But remember this--

no matter where I go, or when--

let it be with your smiles,

your faces, your words,

your laughter

always by my side:

the best of all companions

on whatever journey.