my goal
(damn. how quickly
i forget)
is to find
in every moment
sufficient pleasure
to overcome
the ridiculousness 
of being alive.
there is no point
(this will be clear
before too long,
too soon)
but i like
being here enough
to want to make it
worthwhile.
by that standard,
i have wasted
about three-quarters
of my life.
that’s over forty-five years
pissed away
for no reason
other than i had
all the wrong ideas
about why
i was here
and what was
and wasn’t
goin on.
so i am
sitting here,
drinking tea,
reading,
and watching the birds
at the feeder
live their lives
with more intention
and more commitment
than i ever have.