The Mindful Poet

 

Now I am opening my eyes. Now it is 8:36. Now I am dressing myself.   Now I am eating cereal. Now I am taking out my garbage. Now I am noticing that my garbage smells. Now I drop it in the bin on the corner. Now I am walking to work. Now I see the sky is ominous. Now I am waiting for the tube. Now I am contemplating throwing myself across the tracks. Now I am getting on the tube. Now I am pretending not to notice the woman sitting across from me, who is very pretty, or the man sitting next to her, who is in a handicapped seat but does not appear to be handicapped. Now I am not working hard at not judging him. Now I am arriving at work. Now I am imagining murdering my boss. Now I am entering data into the spreadsheet. Now I am wondering if life is meaningless. Now I am eating the sandwich I packed for lunch: cucumber, smoked salmon, and butter. Now I am thinking cheese would have been preferable. Now I am briefly napping in the toilet stall. Now I am returning to my desk. Now I am listening to two colleagues banter, and wondering why I am not in on the joke. Now I am thinking about checking my Facebook. Now I’m deciding not to. Now I’m sharpening my pencil, despite not needing it. Now I’m wondering what my life would have been like if I hadn’t quit playing the piano. Now I am imagining myself on stage at the Royal Albert Hall, and the audience applauding. Now I am deep in my reverie. Now my boss asks for “that report,” so I snap back to reality. Now I am watching the clock as the end of the day looms: 4:56, 4:57, 4:58, 4:59, 5:00. Now I am entering my local to have a pin before heading home. Now I am noticing my brain getting foggy. Now I am climbing the stairs to my flat. Now I am hearing the penultimate step on the staircase creak. Now I am hearing my neighbors make raucous love. Now I am undressing. Now I am nodding off.

Now I am sleeping. Now I am sleeping. Now I am sleeping.

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