September Poems (2023)

Real Life

"Back to real life now," she said with a sigh,
bending down to check the price of lettuce.
But wasn't your trip real life,
albeit brief?

If what you said to me were true, real life would then consist of:
-work
-chores
-paying the bills
-commuting through traffic
-scrolling through your socials, wondering which of your friend's online lives are real, whose aren't. you're gauging who's really having more fun than you, and who isn't
-figuring out taxes
-shopping for groceries
-taking your kids to school
-scrambling to keep up with everyone you know, remembering all their birthdays
-setting two or three alarms each morning. if you sleep through them again you could lose your job
-tapping the gas meter and hoping it will go up. you're waiting for the gas prices to go down, maybe even just five cents?
-making dinner for your daughter. she's making her hunger known, loudly
-drinking your third coffee of the day. that's under-average for you
-searching through your fridge for leftovers. there aren't any so you pour a bowl of cereal for dinner
X getting lunch with a friend
X watching the sunset
X eating a ripe, juicy mango
X stepping outside to watch the stars at 2am
X listening to the church choir. the harmonies bring tears to your eyes
X rubbing the belly of your childhood dog. he wags his tail absently
X daydreaming about flying
X reminiscing about your childhood on the commute home after dark
X your vacation to the caribbean. you said it was the best week of your life
X the boy you had a crush on in middle school. you saw him in the grocery store last week, were too scared to say hi. it was like you were in 7th grade again
X wondering if death is really the end, or only the beginning?
X carving a pumpkin with your daughter. she laughs at the goop on your hands
X connecting with a stranger in the park. when you say goodbye you know you'll never see each other again; if your paths had run parallel would you have become best friends?
X crying at your favorite rom-com. wishing you had a romance like that, knowing it's just a movie, still wishing
X watching a plane rise into the bright blue sky. wonder where its passengers are going
X picking the best lemon on the tree. your mom told you to pick a yellow lemon that twists off the branches easily; you come inside and she smiles, tells you what a great lemon you picked
X catching the frog on your front porch, holding it and confiding in it as if it were your best friend
X smiling at the little boy in the overalls tromp about the pumpkin patch. he splashes in the mud, tumbles in the hay bales
X seeking out loss in a calm world
X searching for the stars on a cloudy night
X driving over the lake at midnight, your favorite song softly playing through the speakers. you hum along quietly, eyes glazed by your own thoughts.

But I suppose those things aren't real life,
are they?
Real life, by your definition,
is what you'd call "adulting,"
but it's what I'd call "living,"
or at least the seeking out of it.