The List

 

I need to clean up the Pacific Gyre

and trim my toenails,

fight creeping tyranny

and brush my hair.

 

Wash clothes and stop climate change.

Protect the Atlantic coast

and pick up soda cans and burger boxes.

 

It's hard to keep up with my

little old man's list of things to do.

Stop hatred and racism.

Mow the lawn.

 

Bring unity and peace to the world's religions.

Bring a sandwich and water to Silent Sam

living under Freeman's Bridge.

 

Got to polish my shoes

and bring old clothes to Saint Michael's.

Need to check out a local report

of contact with extraterrestrial BE's

and visit Fred C. Dobs at

the State

Correctional

Facility.

 

Bread, milk, toilet paper

and disarm 5,000 nuclear missiles.

Not enough hours in a day.

Would like to visit my sister

who is dying in the hospital and

doesn't remember her own name

or how to dress herself, and who

told me a thousand times she does

not want her blended brain to be kept alive

in order to protect some fool's twisted morality.

 

The list seems to get longer

every day.  For two things done

add three new chores more

urgent than a screaming bladder.

 

Hard to keep up.

Is "drop dead" on the list?

Might want to reposition that obligation,

but then again once I'm gone who will

maintain the list, finish the chores

before the end of the universe?

Not enough time.

 

Thirteen billion years and not enough time to

correct the mistakes of the stars

and paint the north side of the house.

 

        Copyright 2025, John L. Medeiros