exertion

always an odd thing
to see yourself from two steps back
examining those moments
a smile perhaps too wide
chin tucked too tight
shirts pulled askew

too often i catch myself
too late
ive reminded myself i ought to
smile more carefully
comb my damn hair
but. . . in truth
then it wouldnt be me so much captured in those photos
now would it?

. . . . .

my hands are raw
from hefting plywood
arms sure to ache tomorrow
scratches to stand out from skin
still caked in dirt and sand

ive no idea
nor desire to know
where these scraps have been
collected from dumpsters and back yards
damp and crawling

i drank too much coffee
still jittery at 2am
wishing i were out
wishing for something else to do
wishing i didnt have to be responsible
and eventually get some sleep

my bed yet unmade . . .
at least i finally washed my sheets
towels clean and folded away
awaiting the weekends worth of visitors

too warm
too still