Ambition
I lie on the bed in my bathrobe
with the cat. Outside, a misty rain.
So many things to be done
in this world, so many injustices
rectified. Somewhere, in a lab filled
with crescendos of test tubes,
frenzied scientists sit on the cusp
of curing misery. I wish I were among them.
Sadly, I have only the prematurely blossoming
eastern redbud across the street and the
incipient crocuses to truly celebrate.
It is yet another day of doing nothing
for my kind. Is this the romantic’s fate?
I wonder, merely to celebrate celery
and chives in his own backyard? Bridges
are being built, tunnels dug, someone
is just now standing up to argue before the
Supreme Court. Where have I gone wrong–
a man in a bathrobe at noon with a cat–
or have I? Do no harm, a friend in Colorado,
scarred by his youth, once described
his motto, and surely I am doing no wrong
to anyone. My putting game is
ever improving, my second serve
has miles to go before it sleeps. Oh Lord,
let the sun emerge this day, let the cat
awaken purringly against my thigh. Let me
do nothing to damage anyone, and, if
I do, let that damage be minimal. Let
the smiling neighbor who lives in the house
next door be blessed with caffeine and
beverages, let the babies cry out with pleasure
and the builders of bridges go on in their
merry way. I see it now— the sun coming out
from behind a cloud. We have done it again.
It’s a wonderful life.