Spring Cleaning will take until summer
to address the mess I've made
and weaning myself from the somnambulant slumber
I''ve been in for a long decade.
The last breakfast beer this morning.
Yesterday the end of playing with fired.
I know I've run through stop signs and warnings
enough that my get out of jail card's expired.
One thing and day at a time.
Pick shit off the floor and start scrubbing.
Do not return to the scenes of the crime
like a derelict into the drubbing
that ends at last in the burning
of the bridge back to the rope
to which I have been too long returning
like a hack stand-up comic to his tired trope.
I'm wobbly, winded and weak as a wuss.
My thinking is foglost, my emotions erratic.
I've fallen from the shove that comes from the push
required to stir action from addict.
And just this morning the loud red alert
in the form of a sign with obvious meaning.
Stop Stupid Now or I'm going to get hurt
and start digging in the dirt of Spring Cleaning.
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