Night and Day
Spring weather is night and day
Whether or not it's April or May.
Crisp air. Drunken lilacs.
I tie my hood
Thrust out my chin so it doesn't fall back.
Why has this not occurred to me before?
I can't figure out how to dress for my dog.
At work I receive more compliments about my clothes
than ever before.
No rhyme nor reason to choices.
No rhyme nor reason to “right” and “wrong”.
No rhyme nor reason to the place that requires the clothes.
But not the clothes.
Night and day.
Underneath those layered threads
An audio book plucks at strings running through my chest.
The Night Diary.
Five discs in a purple case.
By Veera Hiranandani.
I listen day and night.
Driving to work.
Driving to work out.
One disc ends.
Almost at the end
Of the story.
Eject. A triangle button.
On the dash dusted in paw prints.
A whirring sound, like blades
They’re soon covered
By a flash forward song.
But time makes you bolder Even children get older And I'm getting older, too
An adult looking back
Instead of a child guessing forward
Border. Torn. Walls. Counting. Family.
The spell of music and words breaks
My thumb scans.
The radio disappoints.
I speed ahead through the light
So cars behind aren't angered by my indecision.
In the parking lot,
I pluck a white hair
From a dark skirt.
Though I don’t care much if it stays.
Night and day
Makes no difference.