On the Inadvisability of Good Decisions

By Louise Robertson

Featured Image: Knowledge 2 by Sam Warren

I regret my good decisions while
staring at digital timestamps within
the carpeted walls
of my assigned cubicle as November
darkens to evening right after lunch.
I regret them as I climb
into the hybrid and track its mileage.
On an after-work walk,
plastic bags, candy wrappers, and
beer cans sprawl.
I decide to corral
strips of wild sheeting
massed into a wig of see-through hair.
A slippery ooze
crawls onto my hands.
I should have fucked that guy.
I should have broken my heart
over him and kept breaking those gears
—a clockwork that spends almost
all of its time junked
just for those
two moments everyday,
when it is exactly right.

Louise Robertson counts among her favorite publications and honors several jars of homemade pickles she received for running a workshop. Her poetry has appeared in or is forthcoming at Crack the Spine, SWWIM, After the Pause, and other journals. It’s also been nominated three times for the Best of the Net and once for a Pushcart. She also serves as the marketing director, Zoom, and web person for the Writers’ Block Poetry Night in Columbus, OH.

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