Life is Measured in Coffee Filters

A Poem by Max Smetanick. Follow Max on Instagram: maxxipaddy_daddy

Photo by Mohamed Nohassi on Unsplash

Life is measured in coffee filters 
and sexual rejection.
Life is measured in the amount of time 
between fallout warnings. 

Tulips sprouting,
Hugs overstayed,
Turning emotions inside out.

Life is measured through test tubes, 
with little memories 
you've confused for 
book chapters. 

Or pubescent arousal dreams.
Life is measured in great steak 
dinners. 
That left you bloated.

Life is measured between relapses 
and days you took off sick 
when you weren't really sick. 

Life is measured in paychecks
and books you didn't finish. 
Used cars 
and jobs you got fired from. 

Life is measured in repeating 
monotony. 
And pairs of jeans you'd thought
would last till your 27th birthday. 

Life is measured in boulevards
and avenues. 
Haircuts 
and ER visits.

It's measured in childhood pets 
that die.
And get replaced with new ones
with different names. 

Life is measured with trees 
you watched grow 10 feet 
in your hometown neighborhood.

In fingernails 
and baby teeth.
Fat lost 
and fat gained. 

Life is measured by other people's 
allowance for happiness. 
It's measured in full tanks of gas 
and bars of soap that just wouldn't die. 

Life is measured in times you left home
and times you spent back at home. 

Life is measured in sexual dry spells.
When all you could do was writhe 
in withdrawal from lack of 
intimacy. 

Measured in thirds.
1/3 sleeping 
1/3 working 
1/3 doing what you really want to do with life. 

Time is measured in the space between 
when you last saw someone you loved. 
And when they last saw you. 

Time is measured in new apartments 
and the keys and locks that come with them.

Time spends you like money, 
forcing gravity through your bones.
Turning you mushy 
like an oxidizing avocado. 

Time is measured between 1-100
and a-z.

Time is measured in the length of time 
it takes your nail polish to wear away
and expose fibers.

Time is truly measured 
in the amount of time 
between when you last cried 
and when you'll cry next. 

When you'll make someone else's  
guts 
hurt, 
and make someone vulnerable.