Now And Now And Now

There are those certain things I shake my fist at.

I cross to walk on the opposite side of the street to avoid them.

Today, at least, I commit to calling them by their true name:

Teacher.

I will accept the curriculum you’ve prepared. 

Show me where I still cheat myself

of communion with the moment 

— with aliveness itself — 

through my unwillingness to accept its offering.

(Boredom, disappointment, longing, grief.)

Show me where I still delude myself

that there is some place more precious than this one that’s been chosen for me. And then this one. 

That there is some moment more important than the one I am living now. And now. And now.