CC Bloom Poet Free verse

Half Understood and Halfway There

I read and highlighted
the lyrics
of two perfectly different,
however similar 
modern songs.

One was 
‘The Season of the Sticks’
and the other
was ‘Stubborn Love.’

I don’t live in Vermont,
But my yard and roof
confirm that spring
is coming.  I also have 
no interest 
in landscaping.  

I found myself circling
and counting
all the “half” words
and considering
how the repetition
of a word offers more
than half a meaning.  

While sipping watered-
down coffee beans and
staring at a full parking lot,
I decided on one thing
that I wanted today,
the “opposite of love’s
indifference” when I 
exit the anonymity
of The Joy Bar
Coffee Co.

I don’t know 
“some version” of myself.
Unfortunately, I know more.
I might leave “tire tracks”
on the world’s uncaring
pavement, or my own
driveway on the edge 
of oblivion.

I am not “split 
in half” or
a fragment
of myself, like a
blueberry
that never made it
to juicy, round
perfection.  

In twenty minutes
I will pick my son up
from golf practice
and drink the remnants
of cold coffee
on the way.

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