~

never one to yawn and stretch

i am up early, purring

up with the high-pitched and repetitive 

beep-beep-beep

of a garbage truck backing into the alley

they seem to come at midnight

but no, it's five, and i need to be up

or want to be

while the city life begins around me

vendors and merchants set out

their crates of produce in the marketplace

and gym-rats tread their first mile

and homeless rub sleepy eyes

and begin wending their way

to consciousness or food pantries

i sit on the edge of my bed

and try not to, but do

look across the alley at the apartment

kitty-corner from me

a woman my age, or so, lives there

i think alone, i've never seen her

beyond a glimpse through her window

peeping-me, yes, and of course

i imagine she's the one, though—of course

she isn't, just another single woman

rising and shining on this gray san francisco morning

~

if she were (the one), what then

it would be a long list, and what comes

first to mind is the loss of my precious privacy

the right to be and do in selfish solitude

weighing that, naturally, against the bounty

of love, it seems an easy call

but it isn't, not when history plays its game

of i told you so, not when, for now

i'm doing okay, kinda-sorta giddily happy

just when the vineyard is taking on

a larger portion of my thoughts, the inkling

of something new, something

i couldn't have planned or imagined

is peeking, peek, from the realm of nowhere

~

this is a departure, this hesitation

~

i make tea, tidy up the minor mess

which is my apartment and me

drink my tea, two glasses of water

and force down a banana, for i'm running

this morning, and so i begin my day

~

it is windy and chilly, i plug-in

and let the tunes carry me along, huff-huffing

until i find my rhythm

and there isn't much running-rhythm 

in joni mitchell, but one song

leads to another, très eclectic my taste in music

my pace adjusts accordingly

running is not fun, but the thoughts

that sometimes come

make it worth it, and i suppose

there are health benefits

to compensate for the aches and shin splits, maybe

the girl across the alley is not much on my mind

she's a morning thought

and maybe a night thought as i glance, peeping me

across the alley, across the plastic bins of trash

now empty, across, really, an expanse

of two lives destined not to meet

who cares

i huffingly say to myself

she

maybe, but what are the odds

it doesn't matter, i say to the sidewalk

live in the moment

and amy winehouse advises me not to  

fuck myself in the head

and lou reed says

oh such a perfect day

and duke ellingtion says nothing

~

can we all be right

~