What a Difference a Day

The one who got away returns at times amid the routine because today is not enough. It has to be enough or why go on? Sometimes I think of the one day of Mrs. Dalloway’s story. The worry over the flowers, her thoughts flowing like converging rivers. The quotidian is the backbone of any tale. Any day. That’s why the element of surprise is so necessary. That’s why an orchestra of thunderstorms matters. My rituals vary little. I try to be mindful and make any task about being present in the here and now. Washing dishes can be a form of meditation. But it is not so easy to trudge along against the current of the ordinary, the expected. Daydreams are real and let me wander anonymous fields or hear the waterfall we walked three miles to see. I try to believe I’m better than laundry day self. Wasn’t string theory supposed to explain all this? Where is the furious ecstasy, the dance of the dervish, the tune I can fit in my pocket? Where is the avalanche of affection I was expecting? Instead there is cleaning the cat’s water bowl, recycling, signing in at the doctor’s. A novel’s gathering storm—a daily frequency I tune to as the day is stuck on one playlist like the long talks of lovers that lead everywhere but nowhere, turn back in on themselves and arrive where they began, a plot line with a single resolution.

Marc Frazier has widely published poetry in journals including Spoon River Poetry Review, Another Chicago Magazine, The Good Men Project, F(r)iction, The Gay & Lesbian Review, Tampa Review, Permafrost, Plainsongs, and Poet Lore. He has had memoirs published in Gravel, The Good Men Project, decomP magazinE, Autre, and Cobalt Magazine, among others. Willingly, his third poetry book, was published in 2019. His website is http://www.marcfrazier.org.

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