9/365

I don’t know what I am going to write
each night:
until I actually sit down and wait
for each word to drip out
one
by
one
like a leaking faucet or a rain cloud.

tonight it’s passed midnight:
we sat beneath an awning in the rain
drinking red wine
talking about pets and cruises and other mundane things
adults talk about to feel less alone.

we are all doing our best to be happy
eating cheese and stuffed peppers,
playing games,
raising kids,
hoping for a Green New Deal
and medicare for all-
and for the Nazis on our Facebook timelines
to crawl back into their holes
and take less space in our minds.