Dharma Bum
By David Guterson
Boat on the water—
A treble note, fading.
In the new light, it’s clear:
We’re moving toward rain.
Fallen flowers on the table—
Night has laid them under.
Already I’m foolish enough
To have hopes for the coming hours.
My morning tea’s rich,
Superior to other things.
I cling to the dancers
And the cruel remark.
I haven’t overcome the applause
Or the hearse.
My waste bin’s full of pleas.
I think about my needs.
Deposited on the shore of waking, alive,
A mayfly, like me, has all day.
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Thursday was going to be the day I caught back up on everything, but I got derailed at lunchtime because a woman came over to pick up a Barbie I was selling on Facebook Marketplace and I ended up showing her most of my collection, which was really fun -- I don't remember the last time I took so many down -- and letting Uhura go home with her as well as Cher. (She's a really interesting person who has traveled all over the world and I hope we end up being friends!)
Then I lost the rest of the afternoon to fighting with our new insurance and I still haven't managed to transfer my prescriptions, because Caremark won't let me access the old records now that I'm not a customer and the new HSA/FSA isn't active yet for some reason. We did manage to take a walk between bouts of early evening rain, and watched the two episodes of Kung Fu that we missed while out of town after I chatted with my fan friends. A morning at Seahurst Park:
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