I’m a bigger fool than I can say.
I’m so sorely, wretchedly exhausted
I almost need another holiday
to celebrate my foolishness, my way
of stopping just when I’ve gotten started.
I’m a bigger fool than I can say,
but that won’t stop me trying every day
to pin down my soul, to parse it.
I already need another holiday
and we’re not that far past spring break.
Adrenaline drove that car and crashed it.
I’m a bigger fool than I can say.
Calling myself a fool is such canker,
the Bible says not to even say it.
I totally need another holiday,
and although it’s foolish to pray
for time off, I can’t stop doing it.
I’m a bigger fool than even I can say
repeatedly, next time I get a holiday.
____
I told my son this morning that I had an idea for a new holiday–“After Fools Day,” where you say something that’s true, but follow it up with “After Fools Day!” and thus make people wonder if it is true. He was quiet for a moment then said, “Mama I don’t think I’ll be doing that.”
I told him that was o.k. That one of my greatest joys in life was coming up with new ideas, and I had so many, I didn’t worry if most of them crashed and burned. And then my day pretty much crashed and burned. But as days do, this one is ending. Whew.
red shoes make any day better
marniere 