What I Don't Do
What I Don't Do has seemed, for years,
a good title. Not perfect. Just good.
What I don't do is make lists
finish my endless novel
which may remain
my endless novel
I do not go to write
at the library
on Tuesdays and Thursdays
or Mondays and Wednesdays
I do not meditate every day
write a Modern Love piece about
my old friend Mike and the woman he met
on the telephone in dust buster customer service
I do not go to the gym for water aerobics
or eat gluten free or avoid chocolate at night.
I eat chocolate many nights.
I do not floss often although I have sufficient
flossing equipment. I do not
throw away letters or notebooks
with one or two good sentences in them
or old red lipsticks with a little red left
I do not take any classes in Yiddish
or Feldenkreis or Insight Meditation although
they'd all be on the list
if I kept lists I do not clear my mind
or give away shoes I liked but haven't worn
especially one pair of handmade shoes
from Barcelona I bought then 23 years ago
from a man named Oliver who said
you'll have these shoes forever I do not
believe in the idea of regret just I do nots.