Wash, Rinse, Repeat

Sunday morning arrives, 

Again, way too soon.

Yawning resolution:

Things are going to change.

Then, a shaky shave,

Brush a few teeth:

Wishing for wings

Instead of stale feet.

Lucky parking slot

Close enough to hear the singing.

It’s as if you’re on time.

Then, later, waiting your turn

To snitch on yourself,

You share the echo from last week

And the week before that.

Sadly, you remain discrete.

You decide you’ve been okay,

Maybe more than just fine;

You’re better than before.

But the response you crave

Offers little to no reward.

Confused, you want to press delete.

Wash, Rinse, Repeat. 

Sheet music on the Frey piano:

“All This Wasted Time.”

Frey itself

Has things to say.

Ceiling vents creak at various times;

An old timer scratching his throat?

The stage manager table

houses three computers, chairs,

and a bowl of Heath chocolates,

that, mysteriously, remains full.

The trio stays busy, tracking the lines,

Changing the blocking,

Making certain things keep moving

Toward the end of the rehearsal trail,

Which is actually the beginning.

Then, the circus will be in town.

To the right of the stage manager area

Sits the water cooler, coffee mugs, hot water,

Coffee machines, a tiny fridge for the fixings,

And occasionally, snacks such as cookies or banana bread.

Actors gather near the sweet treats and drink,

A distraction, a gentle laugh, a look and a nod,

Then back into solitary exploration in plain view.

One is alone and always part of a whole.

Forward and back.

Down and up.

Side to side,

Similar to the film “Groundhog Day.”

Over and over and over,

With fresh clues each time

That solve the riddle

And turn on the lights.

Just like Bill Murray’s quest, 

the path is discovered

Via trial and error, 

error and trial, until at last,

Andie McDowell’s heart is found.

All you need is love.

Range bucket mulligans.

Swing after swing after swing.

But it’s never a straight line.

Bright ideas, lightning bolts

Quickly found, then lost.

Salad greens, fresh and edgy

Not yet tossed.

Over and over and over

Until finally

The tent is raised,

And the clown car 

Putters into the arena.

Same ole, same ole

Yet always new.

The underside

Of the overview.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

Whispers of incense,

Jangle of the chimes.

The adjacent office space,

As usual, is deserted.

Floor fan stirs a silky curtain.

Soon, the portal opens,

And someone, perhaps a soulmate,

Emerges, often with a grin.

Then, a smile that is just for you

As you take a few short steps

Toward the rest of your life.

Second to second.

Let the floor do it.

Give the knees permission.

Follow the head.

Soft, valium fingers

Offer reminders that

Allow you 

to ease toward complete.

Wash, Rinse, Repeat.