Checking Off
Dec 29 2023
I keep lists.
Scraps of paper
post-it notes.
A torn envelope
that comes to hand.
The simple pleasure
of checking off, crossing out
scribbling over.
Of completed tasks.
Of scraps of paper
torn, balled, crumpled up,
then tossed
and washed my hands of.
Only to start from scratch.
Or add
to the malignant list,
expanding faster than I can run.
The clean slate, unplanned day
I only dare imagine
at the end of time.
And if I stopped?
Left it to memory
put things off?
Waited
until the urgency was gone;
the necessary
turning optional,
the would be nice
more a bother?
If only I could let go,
dispense with mnemonics
Relinquish control.
Resist
the demands of productivity.
Admit
to the completionist's illusion.
Give in to drift
and watch the universe unfold,
majestically indifferent
to my urgent scribbles
and paper lists.
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