Pockets

Emptying out my pockets today.  Considering what must be kept, what I can file away for the time being.  Still don*t know what needs to be trashed.

I like clothes

With enough pockets

For everything.

There must always be a place

To stuff the keys

The cell phone.

I avail myself

Of pockets of information,

Ways to use it,

File it,

Even determine

These are not my pockets

Right now

Anyway.

They are not deep enough

Not useful enough.

They do not add a thing

To the clothesline

Of letters

Which already follow

My name.

I collect information

In pockets.

Sometimes the pockets

Must be cleared

Lined up on the counter

The insides hung out

To dry.

Loaded for bear

No.  I don*t really want to talk about it.  Writing about it is enough.

The last couple weeks

I*ve been loaded for bear,

A quaint expression really.

It describes a state of being.

The bear has made his den

Behind the garage

Just out of sight.

Next to the bushes

Filled with snowy cotton bolls.

The robins have returned

Thinking it is spring.

They are cold and wet and,

Well,

Miserable in their robin-ness.

I wait for that one small slight:

The appearance of the bear

From his lair

Behind the garage.

This is hardly Minnesota

Of me

Doncha know

Barely Minnesota.

Personality Disorder, NOS

I am a mental health professional and a priest and a mother and a wife and.... well, a lot of things.  All of us are.  A lot of things.  I am a Person with a capital P.  So are you... and you... and you.  So is every person I sit with in my office, every person I sit next to on the train, every person I pass in the street, simply:  Every Person, Everywhere.  I am a Child of God, as is everyone I encounter, everyone I work with.  I question the helpfulness of Axis 2, most of the time.  Truth be told, we all could be charted on Axis 2, somewhere.  Not Otherwise Specified.

Most of the time

I question Axis 2.

Before learning the DSM structure

In grad school

I had different categories

For people

(Sure I had categories)

But mostly

They were still People

With a capital P.

Walking

Breathing

Children of God.

They still are.

This is a rant.

I know.

Not very poetic

Or even

Reflective.

Most of the time I question

Axis 2.

Truth be told

We all have a number

On Axis 2.

We are all in the book.

These are behavior quirks

Which make us

Not like other people.

Still

We are People

With a capital P,

Walking

Breathing

Children of God.

N  ot

O  therwise

S  pecified.

Thank God.

Praise God.

Creative reasoning

I have competition.  I think I will have share the crown.

I have heard

Three inches

Six inches

Eight inches

May as well make it

A foot of snow

Expected to arrive

From midnight on.

Someone

Did not drive to the clinic today

Because snow is expected

Tomorrow.

It seems I share the crown

For creative reasoning.

It is good to know

I have company.

Real movement

 Moving slow, but still, moving.

I wait for real movement

Upstairs.

It seems I move more easily

In the morning

Than the rest of the household.

I am still not one

For early conversation,

For filling my head with new things

Or old.

It is enough to shower

Dress

Brew the coffee

Pour the cereal

With the right amount of milk.

Oh yes

And write this

In quiet words

As I watch the ducks

Search for breakfast

Across the way,

As I wait for real movement

Upstairs.

Reasons I left the manual behind

Some accomplishments come with an aftermath.  My creative reasoning is still at work... on a caffeine high.

This was the last day

Of Domestic Violence training.

I left the big green manual

On the table

At the shelter.

I see it in my mind*s eye:

Big and green

Filled with notes.

On the table.

I was giddy

With final day accomplishment.

Perhaps it was the diet coke at lunch,

Maybe the massive

Double espresso

Chocolate chip cookie I consumed

As I listened

To what I should and shouldn*t do

As a volunteer,

Ethics guidelines

On a caffeine high

Following a Mexican lunch.

Dangerous combinations.

It is still Lent

I remain the mistress

Of creative reasoning.

The way of the panda

I*m glad I listen to NPR.  News from the BBC often reminds me of Monty Python.  Pandas all over the world are being observed this month.

Panda research finds the panda

Only interested in reproduction

Once a year.

Now is the time.

This timely report on panda reproduction

is delivered

In the Queen*s English.

It sounds rather like

A Monty Python sketch.

Underneath it all

I hear

Time to bury the cat.

The report offers the fact

Male pandas do handstands

In mating season

To wee on trees

As high up on the tree

As possible.

This fact and others

Are offered

In the finest British accent.

I am glad I am not a panda female

Rating acrobatic males,

Ranking who has nailed the tree

The highest.

Time to bury the cat

I hear

Time to bury the cat.