A POEM - THE ELUSIVE ONE

THE ELUSIVE ONE
Every day I woke up
to an alarm
and began the process of
getting my aching body out of bed.
Food,
a shit,
put on my filthy clothes
and pack my things for work.
At the jobsite I’d hate my life.
Back breaking,
knee grinding,
mind numbing work.
The only thing I liked was
listening to the Jamaicans jive
or the Dominicans sing.
A few times a day
a certain idea for a poem
would come into my head,
it’d bring smile to my face
I’d make a point to remember it
to write it down
when I got home.
But each night when I got home,
for the life of me,
I couldn’t remember that poem.
I’d sit and stare tiredly at the screen,
my body always aching
and I’d wonder,
“now just where the fuck did that little poem go?”