Irresolution

My cat and I aren’t locked into
This resolution trap that you
And all too many focus on.
So what if twelve more months have gone
The way of all things (“dusty death’s”
The phrase that springs to mind)? Your breath’s
As pungent as it was before.
To increment a number or
To change the photograph atop
Your calendar won’t make it stop
Offending folk, and if my cat
And I support your goals, will that
Empower you to change your ways?
The new year comes, the old you stays.
My cat and I will still be here
Exactly as we are next year,
No better and no worse than we
Are right this moment. Wait and see.
If self-improvement does occur
Despite our lassitude, be sure
That we are not the ones to blame:
We really tried to stay the same.
No resolutions have we sworn
And those who swear them earn our scorn
And enmity. When this year ends,
If you’re still you, we’ll still be friends.
The status of my cat–and mine–
Will still be quo, and that’s just fine.

Advertisements

About Michael

Silliness is good
This entry was posted in poetry and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s