Rough Draft Poem

I sit, reading,
taking notes, considering,
conceptualizing critical pedagogy theory
Giroux dances in my head
McLaren plays the tambourine
fueled by caffeine.

Across the street
students play grab ass after school
a nurse walks past eye level
orders a venti mocha
and squats across from my table,
scrubs stretched across dough thighs

A teacher rushes in an dout again
two pounds of Pike Place
and comfortable shoes
hair she pinned into place early thi smorning
still obediently stays where she willed it.

Sunlight slants in across my
articles, messy, highlighted
with "discuss" and "wow" written
in
the
margins
I'm not sure what I"ll use it for.

A woman saunters in.
Mid 30's. Blond highlights,
short bob, easy smile, sunglasses and
tan trousers tailored over Manolo Blahniks.
"Skinny Vanilla Latte"

This will not be me.
I'll never spend $200 on shoes and
I know no tailor. So
I gather my ratty sweater at the elbows,
push my bangs out of my face,
sip my bitter cup
and plan for a better world tomorrow.

Housekeeping

Luke moved out today. He'd slowly been moving stuff over the last week or so and today he took the last two loads of stuff. I don't like the ends of relationships- so awkward. I think that Luke was planning to stay until October but just sort of changed his mind. The last thing he took was his dog, Mia. That's the only point at which I felt like crying.
I'd planned to spend the day working on a presentation for Curriculum Theory class over Henry Giroux. He is responsible for the idea of radical pedagogy, is still living and was a contemporary of my hero, Paulo Freire. I ended up rescheduling. What I did instead was call and text my girlfriends. Cathy came over, of course, and she brought her dogs and we all went to the dog park and hiked the three miles and sorted through issues of life, the universe and everything together. I called my sister Patti too, and my mom and other good friends just to ask for a little moral support. And they have given generously of their time and energy today. Much love, friends. <3
I spent the rest of today cleaning house. I mean dinging and slinging and throwing stuff out and moving furniture and vacuuming and generally sweeping and mopping and caring for my home. I was caring for me too. I took a scrubber to the inside of my eyes, sprayed Windex in my ears and cleaned out some of my psychic muck. I took on the living room, two bedrooms, the carpets and the front porch. I also swept out my feelings and allowed a few moments to just slump in a chair, have a cup of coffee and be quiet. I fed myself and worked myself out from the tight winding of the last few weeks of living in the same domicile with an ex and I feel both physically tired and emotionally unwound.
This is a good thing; it's not healthy to keep things bottled inside. The season is changing and we begin our descent from sweltering days to harvest and turning leaves towards winter, the time of the defiant. I have much to do this semester. We're five weeks in and I have another 11 to go if I'm to stay on track and graduate in the Spring. I'm still not sure how I'm going to break after that, but my opportunities have opened up. My head space and my living space are less cluttered and I am lucky once again. This time it's because the relationship ended on a "no harm, no foul" note.
Tomorrow I will get back on track. I'm resisting the urge to feel guilty. Soon, I will pull out my warm sweaters and hunker down for the winter to wait for a time of renewal and growth. Until then, I'll just sit still and lick my wounds.