COMMITTANCE

Committance

…from com “with, together” + mittere “to release, let go; send, throw”

Memory takes commitment;

we commit to memory.

Remembering is impossible

where no such undertaking exists

although it’s not as if we have a choice;

memory has the monopoly.

We learn by heart, not mind—

an important distinction—

so, you’d imagine we’d remember

what we care about, however,

commitment is not reciprocal;

our memories owe us nothing.

It’s said a leaky bucket’s better

than no bucket—some say—

and it’s true up to a point.

It all depends on how far

you have to humph it

and if it’s raining.

Another Fine Mess

…from Middle Low German mate, gemmate “one eating at the same table, messmate”

We weren’t soulmates, no,

although we were good mates.

Best mates even. Sure, why not?

Not that we could ever agree on

what any of those terms meant.

Other halves, better halves?

Nah, we were both too full of

ourselves to be half of anything.

So, what were we to each other?

We were there, there for.

There or thereabouts.

Of course,

we both believed we were the Didi

in the relationship.

Didi and Didi.

That was us. Yeah, says it all.

SMART

A SMART goal is used to help guide goal setting. SMART is an acronym that stands for Specific, Measurable,

Achievable, Realistic, and Timely.

I never really got my dad and niceness.

Some people aspire to be good or righteous—

 I get that—

even holy, successful, the crème de la crème.

But nice? Yeah. No.

 Never quite got that.

Like a 9 settling for a 6.

 I mean, I suppose I do get that;

 sixes are safe.

Not that my dad was a 9, but he was smart,

so, I suppose, he had an action plan—

if not exactly a master plan.

My guess is it was his last stab at innocence.

 Take virginity:

it doesn’t exactly grow back, but

you can fake it—

 like pleasantnesses

passing themselves off as pleasures.

Assurity

…likely evolved from “a surety” in the Caribbean dialect, implying a firm promise or guarantee.

But, it’s not real.

No, no it’s not.

Is that important to you?

I thought so.

And now, now you’re unsure?

Yes. I don’t know. Maybe.

We could just pretend.

Pretence is the epitome of unreality.

Pretence is an act, evidence of actuality.

That’s a thought.

Thoughts are real too.

Why’s nothing ever straightforward?

Examination

I would rather die a meaningful death than to live a meaningless life – Corazon Aquino

Socrates thought

an unexamined life

not worth living.

Camus, of course, came

to quite a different

conclusion.

As did Brautigan, Arbus,

Sexton and

Drake.

But it’s never that easy.

Just ask Frankenstein’s

monster.

Jim Murdoch has been writing poetry for fifty years and has graced the pages of many now-defunct literary magazines and websites and a few, like Ink, Sweat and Tears and Poetry Scotland that are still hanging on in there. For ten years he ran the literary blog The Truth About Lies but now lives quietly in Scotland with his wife and, whenever the mood takes him, next door’s cat. He has published two books of poetry, a short story collection and four novels: Jim, not the cat.