My friends want to set me up.
I look into my yard and say,
I have a wagon with a flat
and a wheelbarrow with one handle.
My winter garden has not been planted.
I tell them, I keep odd hours. My dog
only gets along with me. The depressions
in my mattress are set.
They press on.
I say, the plants in my house
are bromeliads. Lights are on timers.
Very little has been required of me
for a long time.
© BARB REYNOLDS
Published in Right Hand Pointing, May 2018.
This poem may not be reproduced without the author’s permission.