What Are You Supposed to Do Anyway?

by Jack Ridl


Trying to know what to do is difficult
enough, let alone knowing what to do

anyway. I could take that at least two ways,
maybe more. For example, I could take a walk,

even a long walk and I would expect to walk
through the woods or a field or a park or downtown.

But what if I didn’t take a walk and instead just kept
the walk to myself, kept it here amidst all the indecision

about where to take that walk? I might pop open a Coke,
kick off my hiking boots, put on a smoking jacket

and pile up some Jane Austen and some Henry James,
just pile them up. And then maybe I’d talk with you

even though you are no longer here. It could be like that,
or maybe it is like that. And at night the sky would be full

of the same stars as the night before last. At least it seems that way.


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