waking up while it’s dark. stepping off the ledge of my bed.
my feet hit the carpet. but dreams still dance in my head.

why was i so angry? i’m not eminem.
i have a great family. and mini-van.
i’m wading. in the deepend. again.
but i keep proving. i can truly. swim.
why was i so angry? because i am.

so,

i found myself. hosing down the driveway.
set your water-conserving-self to the side today, and
let this man have a therapeutic session, if he may.
i’d rather pay the bill for all my hose watering.
rather than unloading on a watered-down shrink.

it’s where i’m uncovering. the discovery so deep.
the revelation recognizing my realization. unearthing.

it’s passion.

for starters. i find it much harder to grasp on demand.
it’s passion like the italian woman in the kitchen at 3 am.
it’s drive to the jersey girl for fashion with Ralph Lauren in the garment district.
it’s ambition to Og Mandino. get up up and get going to the local library.
it’s motivation from God. and the faith that helped Noah build the ark.
like will power. like tenacity. like baking flour. and finger licking. batter.
like a hot shower. and warm towel. like driving wide. and
thinking narrow.

you know what i speak.
it’s passion.
and my driveway is clean.