My “Routine”

Routine, is that you?

The one with an uncanny way
of undoing life’s seams.
Those seams I stitched up in vain.
Even when I’ve stitched them up
with threads of sugarcane.

You sound so neat,
So tidy.
So Instagram-perfect–
Quarterback ready.
But you are a sly one,
And really
Not steady.

You keep me guessing, Routine.
You keep me agile
on tiptoe.
Like clever fiction,
You’re a riddle I keep chasing.
A task I keep erasing.

Routine! Routine?
I call.
I ask.
I wail.
I beg.

Years of searching
have me persuaded–
You are a myth.
I’m convinced.
A breeze.
A gale.
A faith
So that I do not fail.

Routine!
Is that my echo?
Or yours?

Are you making fun of me?

How is it that you’re some pro?

I keep looking.
I keep rewriting.
I make lists I think will impress.

“Mom – did you wash my dress?”

Still, I conjure plans.
Magical plans.
Color-coded plans
with little check-box marks
and all.

And “Routine”
knowing fully
where it all will land–

All Scattered,
Shook,
And pranked.

Should I try again at daybreak?

Winning you over,
Routine,
It is my life’s mission.

You are a stubborn harbor.
A desert oasis harbor.
An illusion.
An ideal I’ll chase.

This ship was built to level,
Routine.
These masts were sewn to pull–

Meant to keep my mind hoping.
Meant to keep my heart full.