A poem.

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my problem has always been

in the
execution.

the execution.
touching it up again and
can’t leave it alone,
critical of the tone
again,
it’s that execution.

keeping it up with poor health
poor people
poor job,
poor me –
one thing slips and
that cascading effect is a
direct result
of
poor execution.

poor contributions.

no waving.
not that guy in shades staking claim at the
smokers’ pit again,
or the shady area in front of the recycling.
i’ve had forty years to perfect the act
of blowing it totally
in the execution.

the execution.
and i like to sin.

it makes me feel good

feel something when i know i’m not winning,
easier than pulling myself back up
to simply submit,
walk away with the neighbours coming

than to execute.

//wd 7.2.2026

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