November

Have I mistakenly lowered my expectations?

Was I right to?

My best intentions don't count

When they're up in my head

But get lost on the way to my mouth

I'm falling back into the patterns

That I always do

I tend to count away days

When I reach the end I start counting again

Then expect things to change

I'm all but resigned to the way

Novel turns common

Then before long becomes cliche

I know when honesty bothers me

I'm avoiding what I already see

I still overthink and under react

It's overwhelming to be so underwhelmed

And how a learned preoccupation

Becomes the lens itself

I can't tell

At a diner off Harbor in West Sacramento

I think it was like five in the morning

At a time when that meant it was late

On my third cup of coffee

And the morning was all I could see

But my lack of planning

Was never a problem to me

I still overthink and under react

It's overwhelming to be so underwhelmed

And how a learned preoccupation

Becomes the lens itself

I can't tell