Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt tells us to try a dialogue poem. Alrighty then.
A Dialogue Between My Neurotic Mind and My Breath
Oh my god,
I’m going to be FIVE MINUTES LATE
to my daughter’s preschool for pick up time
that makes me a terrible mother,
and the director and my daughter’s teacher
are going to resent me for being late
for the umpteenth time.
Now I’m rushing,
and teaching my son terrible habits
as I drag him out into the rain
and drive too fast to the school.
Poor little guy,
I don’t pay enough attention to him,
and he’s growing bigger every day.
Why didn’t I savor his babyhood more?
And now it’s all gone.
I’m such a poor time manager.
Why do I do this to myself?
Will I never learn?
What is wrong with me?
Now I’m speeding, and it’s dangerous.
Hopefully I don’t get pulled over.
I shouldn’t be rushing like this.
Better late than dead.
They’re going to hate me for my lateness.
Oh good. I’m only three minutes late.
No other moment but this one.
More space than you can imagine,
All is well.