Thursday’s Poem, draft one.

Thursday has always been my lucky day

– I got the hang of Thursdays.

Thursday was art class instead of gym

– I skipped it anyways to hide in the library and read science fiction.

Thursday was birthdays

– I’m better at giving then getting.

Thursday was moving out, MLK ringing as I packed

– the fire was on Friday.

Thursday was Chicago vivid alive

– I arrived by train, 19 in braids.

Thursday was “I want to marry you.”

– but we married on Friday.

Notes:

This is an exercise in public writing – the draft above was written as it stands as I sat here this morning.    I’ll revise it every Thursday,  and see what comes of it.

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