"Another one bites the dust..."

I would be referencing years with that song title remark. I am another year older today, and so is said, another year wiser. This time, I feel like it's true. When I look back on wonderful, ripe age of 23, I can't believe I even made it through. I was married to a real jerk-head (this is me being extremely nice), I got divorced, got fired, met a guy who seemed like mr. perfect until he becamse mr. commitment-phobe (then his dog died), moved 1400 miles away to a city I hardly knew existed before I actually went for a job interview, and have managed to keep my sanity through it all (this is altogether subjective, of course). I wanted to write a poem when I got out here about the finite things that are able to define us at the end of the day (because I wanted to, because it interested me, because through college I found myself being fascinated with the idea of seeing things...those that didn't exist, but also knowing that things existed even when we can't see them). I wanted to write that I could define myself by 27 boxes (or whatever the number was that I would make up and make completely believable, because that's what we do with writing): kitchen , living room, bedroom, bathroom...I mean, really, that's all we are. I couldn't get it out...I couldn't find the right words...because I wanted the poem to mean more. I wanted to say that everything I owned was in theses corrugated pieces of cardboard, but a stranger can't "see" who we really are through these things...and then it turned into more of a number game...we define ourselves in numbers, they're everywhere...but we find people who are able to break these barriers, erase time and space, and allow us to appreciate living. This is what I got:

_______________________________

My Life in Numbers

Alarm clock set for 6:17 AM
5 hours of sleep
Fumbling in darkness to a 12 minute shower
46 pairs of shoes
1 car worth 22 more payments
18 minutes to work
Radio set to 100.2 FM
An 8 hour day crammed with 13 hours of crap

A 7-mile run to escape reality
Or come back to it
56 minutes of painful peace
Heart racing at 122 beats per minute
Passing 13 strangers,
26 pupils
Only 7 smiles

Dinner cooks in 24 minutes
1 cup hot water
2 cups milk
1 pound of meat
Empty package contents
Creating 2 servings
Tomorrow’s dinner

9:57 PM brings
3 phone rings
You
1,398 miles away
To erase time
Erase place
Your voice creating a volumeless vacuum
A limitless space

Minutes become hours
Don’t say goodbye
You defeat time with
Every word
Every breath

1 “call ended”
3 silent tears
2 cold pillows
1 aching heart
1 eager prayer
To erase 337 more days
Without you
_______________________________

I hate it. I love it. I love to hate it. What am I trying to say? Why do I care? Do we all have a "you?" Do we need one?

Anyway, like I said, "another one bites the dust..."...if I even mean another year...maybe I mean another poem, another word, another love. This year, I'm expecting more for myself. I deserve more. We all do.