one good thing
about an impossible task
is that it’s impossible
and because it’s impossible
it becomes real simple
it’s like
Hey, fix the world by three o’clock or else!
which you could never do
so any little thing you try
seems like
Well, it’s a start.
so after school the next day
I dumped my pack
on my still unmade
(always unmade) bed
and went out back
what a gross hole
a total mess
of
of
of
rubbish litter trash scraps
and God knows what all
but I pretended
a twenty-foot container
was standing empty over there
and tugged on gloves
and started hauling
crap to where it wasn’t
the coffee table first
which when I lifted
by its legs
like a dead goat
a herd of chipmunks
living under it
scattered away
clocks radios bent pipes
two sinks with busted faucets
chairs and rags
and lamps and random
lumber shingles window frames
to have some fun
I rolled five bald tires across the yard
like that hoop game
and raced two tires at once
that flopped over when
they hit the pile
pretty soon I had a mound
of trash
like a bonfire ready to burn
and saw patches of bare ground
I never had
I kept on it
wrenching dragging heaving tossing
all the reject wasted rubbish
I could move
until it was too dark
and I was tripping over stuff
and anyway my arms and back
throbbed from the strain
and said
No more.
so I stopped for the night
and leaning on
the kitchen door
to breathe and look around
I found that after
three and a half hours
phase one
of doing
the impossible
was done
well
(I thought)
it’s a start
it was a start
all right
I didn’t know it then
but just after
I started cleaning
up the mess
but just before
the next day passed
the real mess
had begun