Into the Ordinary

This poem started as one thing and turned into something else. I seem to have a deep well of childhood and youthful memories that are suddenly clamoring to be articulated and shared. This development is extremely gratifying as I have carried them inchoate for many years with a strong desire to make poems of them.

An Ordinary Evening

I've washed my hands
about six times tonight
and brushed my teeth,
not rituals, just ordinary
ablutions on an ordinary night.
Now time to read before
sleep: a little poetry,
Henry James on the novel.
When I turn the light off
the heater will hum
like the car engine,
me lying in the back seat
watching lights smear
the windows, a few stars,
barely hearing the buzz
of voices on the radio.