To myself

Throw away the worries about June 2nd.

Toss in next year too.

Pitch the last day of your life into a far, deep lake.

Fling your deepest fear in the ravine.

Waste no more time on someone else's flipflop mind.

Let your caution splat in the middle of the road,

where it can be run over by a Nissan Pathfinder,

a woman on a red scooter, and tomorrow's garbage truck.

Pick up a peanut. Watch the water's condensation.

Look at the thick well of glass at the bottom of the glass.

See the bubble within the glass.

Notice the well-worn arms of your favorite chair.

See the indentations where you most happily lean.

Touch the bottom lip of the iris,

go nose to nose with the ants licking the peony buds.

Watch the way the clouds look like they were

smeared with a spackling edge across the blue.

Claim the urgent beep of your moped's horn,

find the white tip on your lucky polished flint.

Do not gather up anything that is not real.

Get your life out of your brain and into your hands.

So much comfort within ten paces,

open the door, and go out.