Is it all in place?

Worrying about
lights,
windows,
keys & locks

stressing thru
florescent lights,
counting
how much change
I’ve got,
whether ten cents
more for
organic bananas
will make
or break
a less than ideal
grocery list

trying
not to listen
as the pain gnawing
the bottom
of my guts away
screams
to the top
of my lungs
to say
it will never
stop

keeping track to

remember
if
the floor
got swept today,
how many dishes
are left in the sink,
is it recycling day
or trash day,
did the mail get
brought in
& how about
the grit
in
the microwave
& the polish
on
the black stove

even tho
no matter
how clean they’re
kept
one day they’ll
burn out
either way.