Regular Poem: Bullet Journal

18 Jan

My dad’s been bullet journaling
for years
except his is just a list
of stuff
he’s done or
is yet to do
in scratchy cop penmanship
on a yellow legal pad.

His idea of self care
is quite different
from a Millenial white girl’s,
but it exists
in some realm
in different words.

So as I start my bullet journal
as the Millenial white girl
I am
I can’t
help but think of
this list
my dad’s kept
for years.
Ahead of the curve
yet
behind the times.
A progressive pragmatic racist
who would’ve voted for Bernie Sanders
if that had been an option
and
if that were something he did.

(I did vote,
and I hated myself afterward,
and he knew.

I went to his house,
and he met me on the porch,
and I’ve always had the worst poker face,
and he said,
“What’d you do?”
and gave me a hug
as I confessed.

He ribbed me for weeks.
But he also consoled me
and talked it out.
When he’s sober he’s the best;
when he’s drunk
I’m free to be
the worst.)

Anyway,
I’ve started
my bullet journal,
and I can’t help but think
it’d be just as useful

if I were shooting a gun.
Bullets are
bullets are
bullets.

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2 Responses to “Regular Poem: Bullet Journal”

  1. Silver Screenings 19 January 2017 at 6:10 PM #

    I love how this flows. It’s seamless.

    • TheBestofAlexandra 19 January 2017 at 9:15 PM #

      Why, thank you! I’m going to put this comment right in my gratitude log in my new bullet journal!

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