37.

Today is today.

Today is now.

Jesus walked among earthlings.

From kings to Columbus,

Columbus to Washington,

bloodshed begat more bloodshed.

History etched in crimson lines.

Culture shifted.

But today is now.

There is no tomorrow yet,

Not for any of us.

I see people,

black, white, water, sand.

Buildings washed in hurricane grime.

Today is poetry on the spot.

Every second, a story is written

all around me.

Waves foam at the mouth.

A seagull swoops down.

It flew over my head,

in and out of sight.

Out of mind.

Blue tents dot the shoreline,

One rainbow umbrella,

and mine—black.

Tiny humans live in the magic of now,

while the bigger ones rest,

already mapping out

what’s next.

A stunning man sips a beer

by himself.

I’ll probably never see him again.

Like ever.

……Moments later

joined by a companion.

I’ll def never see him again.

Today is moving.

With every blink.

I wonder how angels see now.

If now even exists to them.

I’ve traveled thirty-seven long years

to get to right now.

Legs crossed, sandy feet.

Swimsuit inside out.

This is all happening

Right now.

Writing poetry on my smart device.

I can’t remember the last time

I used a pen.

But the past begat the smart of

now and then.

And today will begat tomorrow.

A vast unknown.

A sea of faces I’ll never see again.

And tomorrow, more.

Whoa.

Today is vivid.

And tomorrow—even brighter.

Because I’ll see faces

I don’t know about yet.

Just waiting for us to see each other .

You can’t skip it.

You can’t erase it with the back of your pencil.

It’s the next chapter

in your typewriter.

Chapter 37.

A bird just shat on my sheet.

Right now.