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S.E. McCarty

Last Confession

It’s been…gosh, how many days since 
My last confession? A lot.

Father, forgive me for I have sinned and I hear
You dole out absolution. I need some of that.
It all started when my type-A husband envisioned a 
Road trip to 6 different cities in 6 days,
So yeah, I took a hotel pillow
For the car ride. Not my best moment.

My fog-brain went into a frenzy
And cleared out the soaps, shampoos
And in-room Keurig pods.
Maybe even a few Kleenex boxes.

Our platinum status is not helping matters with its 
Continental breakfast buffet. I came away 
Loaded with caffeine and a purse full
Of tea bags, oatmeal packets, 
And oranges “for the road”. In my hyper state,
I must’ve grabbed enough hot cocoa mixes
And to-go cereals to attract attention, my conscience
Guilty only because of some unfriendly looks.

Otherwise, I don’t even notice when my
Hands start scooping up nightstand pads 
and pens, and complimentary water bottles too. 

Is it true it’d be better to cut off my hands 
Than to let them do this? 
Well, I blame them for the many airline earbuds
I have somehow collected. 
We should be punished I guess.

I figure my net worth is inching 
Out of the red with every vanity set of
Q-tips and sample of lotion I come across.
It’s just math.

But some extremists may argue I’m stealing, so 
I’ve come to check with you.
Is it really so wrong to take the extra
Toilet paper home for later?
Am I not entitled to two handfuls of 
Mints as I leave dinner?

Sean Ewing Crimson_Elegance.jpg
Observations

From the back of the room she
           Observes me, checks off the boxes on
                       The rigid rubric, looks at my Plan,
                                  Execution and Delivery, and sizes 
                                              Me down to a number.

                                              From where I stand, it is obvious
                                  She will never notice my lost sleep,
                       My conscious concern for my kids,
           How I think about my lessons as bigger
Than the myopic scale on her chart.

                                                                      How could she understand my passionate aims
                                                          Or possibly see the time spent perfecting my
                                              Art? She doesn’t see what I’m doing as art.
                                  These visits are aimed at checking the 
                       Bigger box of Professional Improvement

                       As a make-up mirror highlights
                                  All the deep lines and blemishes.
                                              If only she could know how proud I 
                                                          Am of these: Evidence I worried for
                                                                      Someone, thought on my own, and saw 
                                                                                  More in each than meets the eye.

THE COURTSHIP OF WINDS

© 2015 by William Ray

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