pantoum's Diaryland Diary

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FUNCTIONAL BIRD

First, a poem.

WHEREVER WE TRAVEL
by Linda Pastan

Wherever we travel
it seems to take the same
few hours to get there.

The plane rises over clouds
into an unmarked sky,
comes down through clouds

to what we have to believe
is a different place. But here
are the same green road signs

the numbered highways
of home, with cars going
back and forth to houses

with chimneys and windows
identical to the ones we thought
we had left behind.

The radio blares familiar
radio music. Soon we will knock
on a door and someone will greet us,

will pull us into a room
we have never seen
but already know by heart.

•

So now that my diary is locked, I plan to post some of my poems—besides the smartass found poem from the book of Psalms that I already posted.

I'm dressed in black today because I leave for the funeral of an employee's mother at 11. This will be the second day in a row I haven't gone to the gym, but I'll try to get a long walk in somewhere.

Talked with Filmgrrl for a long time again last night, then sat and fretted and tried to figure out just what this whole thing with Buzzcut was about. I paid dearly for therapy, so why am I still getting involved with people who seem to only be concerned with themselves? Haven't I learned anything? ...Or maybe what I've learned is to recognize a bad situation a little more quickly now.

Broke down at 11:30 and went to the quick shop for cigarettes. It's functional Bird, back in the saddle again. . . .

9:05 a.m. - 2005-04-20

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