Habit Poem by RIC BASTASA

this is by force of habit
that my fingers
caress the keys
to make
another poem
for the day,
nothing is really
significant,
nothing to give
us power,
it is like
brushing my teeth,
washing my hands,
gargling vinegar with salt,
defecating,
putting my brief
and shorts,
straightening my collar,
inserting my shirt
locking my belt,
combing my hair,
going to the office,
you try going further
than all these,
sorry, there is nothing here
but just routine,
plain typing, and reporting,
stating
and even
by force of habit
without thinking
i said, keep doing
what you do with your life,
do not follow me,
there is nothing
important about this,
this is routine,
the usual path,
where everyone passes
and goes and enters
and exits and
exits and enters
all over again
until death surprises
you no more,
comes like
plain closing and opening
of the office door.