Discombobulation

I would prefer to have other things occupy my mind.  When something vital, like a professional calendar, goes missing, all the creative spots go missing as well.  They are taken up with anxiety. My daughter and I leave this afternoon with a friend and friend*s mother to visit schools in Boston. We all have different ideas of what such things mean: trips and college visits et al.  Meanwhile, the floors are being cleaned downstairs.  I cannot locate my calendar, which has our flight arrangements clipped into the front of it.  I think I must have put it somewhere safe.  Right.

I sit upstairs

While the floors are being cleaned

Underneath me.            

It began

It continues

As a day

Of discombobulation.

I try to settle

In an upstairs chair,

Green,

In the bedroom.

This room is already clean.

My calendar

Has gone missing.

I know it is somewhere

Downstairs.

Perhaps I can blame

The cat.

I consider the implications

Of a calendar

Lost in thin air.

I reconstruct it

In my head.

Again I settle back

Into the green chair.

I would like to write creative things.

Not this.