"A Moment" By Paula Finn

I long to catch a moment—

an earthy, fleshy slice of life

and hug it hard

until its essence bursts and bathes me.

But my mind is always whirring—skipping ahead to anticipated doom,

or slamming sharply into Rewind

to retrieve a long-passed conversation

I suddenly need to dissect.

I long for a moment—

on a clammy day in the Pacific Northwest,

nestled in a roomy vinyl booth

at a college-town café…

while outside,

rainbow pieces sparkle

through darkly feathered clouds…

swirling my cocoa’s whipped cream,

drinking in my companion’s talk

about science,

politics,

or anything—

without the tape fast forwarding

to whether I’ll sleep tonight…

Or maybe a steaming bath—

leaning back to rest my head

against the cool porcelain,

as once-proud oil beads float

like shriveled grape skins,

their magic spent on silken ripples.

As the perfumed water cradles me,

I let my thoughts drift into dreams…

Or maybe a moment where I allow myself

to read for pleasure.

The simplest things are the hardest.

I can imagine a moment,

but I can’t make it mine.

I’ve lived too long in my head.

I’m tired.

I need to stop the tape.

Or at least…

put it on Pause.