I didn’t write anything new yesterday; instead, I kept making small adjustments to the poem I wrote the day before. So, back to something new…

Somewhere a man is sweeping a floor after a party
he comes across a slip of paper
a note handed to someone a couple of hours ago
then dropped in the shock of the moment
The recipient forgot that the news comes to everyone in time
whether or not it makes the paper
and left the room in tears
The sweeper is like me:
the name on the note is unfamiliar
the news makes no impression
It’s almost three in the morning
I’m up late for a different reason
but I keep seeing the story
wondering why it’s anything I should care about
and wondering why I even care that much
The party’s over
I just want to go to sleep

(9 July 2017)