failer

failer

it’s been thirty years
since we first watched
Phil Connors keep waking
up in Punxsutawney

trying to figure out how
not to live the same day
again and again and again
he failed failed failed . . .

someone calculated that it
took about thirty-four years
of February seconds for
Phil to get to February third

and finally free himself
from his festival of failing
except the years stood
on their heads for him

when the day finally changed
it was simply tomorrow
no one else understood what
it took for him to get there

I am two days away from
marking thirty-four years
since my first date with Ginger
Lyle Lovett at the Caravan of Dreams

we have not lived the same day
but I have kept circling the
same lessons same sadnesses
I feel like the king of near misses

one day she said you fail
better than anyone I know
my favorite compliment
from the one who knows me

she saw failing as an act of hope
not an indication of inadequacy
I know how to fail well
and I am loved: enough

Peace,
Milton

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