making lists.

I'm making a list
of things to stack
one on top of the other.
stack until they pile high enough
to reach over the wall
of myself.

hand by hand foot by foot
i begin to craw upwards towards the top
of this jumbled decaying compost heap of intention.

the list teeters.
"make a movie" gets pressed into my palms and
"learn to drive" is under my nails.

as i pass my abdomin and reach for a rib. i look down and see
"excersise daily" there on my foot
its coating my footholds in resisue.
what more could i possibly do on that point?
i wonder, panting as i reach
for the next rung on the ladder- collar bone. and
grasp it with all my srength...
this must be good enough to satsify
"daily workout", i assure myself, as i swing there for a moment
i turn back
hoping to check off that fulfilled bit of gooey resalution
that is sticky between my toes.

"just be happy" is hard like diamonds on the inside of my skull.
i scrape it off in thin layers which shatter
as they fall and shower me in crystal dust.
then-crack- im out- blinking in the sunlight
coated in that last bullieted requirement for freedom.