The Day After Groundhog Day

It was Groundhog Day recently and so I was thinking about Groundhog Day the movie because I love Groundhog Day the movie. It's clever and funny and it's about all sorts of subtle and beautiful things and it's got great performances and oh, I like Groundhog Day.

I was inspired to write a poem about the day after Groundhog Day. Which is not, but should be, referred to as 'Groundhog Boxing Day'.

Anyway. Here's the poem. Please don't read anything into it about my current state of mind. I'm fine.

The Day After Groundhog Day

We flirted with romance for a period of days

That didn’t seem to pass in the regular way

More like one day, repeated, like that film with Bill Murray

Where the passage of time was in no particular hurry

Where I didn’t much care and I didn’t much worry

About the jokes that I made and the things that might follow

I just bought you a beer and we enjoyed the blizzard

That would come every day to wipe out tomorrow

You were, I suppose, a safe hiding place

Slowly going through motions

Knowing dawn would erase

My cheap fumblings at romance

Knowing nothing of meaning would really accrue

Knowing no consequence to the reckless and cavalier things I would do

Freedom to play

With your feelings, your time

With that one endless day

When no hint of a crime

would land at my restless feet

‘Cause my footprints were gone

And fresh snow, like before, would cover the wandering tracks on these streets

But one morning we woke and the flirting was done

And the music was different and all the snow gone

The linear nature of time was restored

I was free. I had won

We embraced

I was instantly bored

They say the chemicals that dance in your brain will reward

Not the moment you finally grasp your desire

But the moment that sparks just a fraction before

We’re drawn to the flame, but not to the fire

And the day after Groundhog Day comes without warning

Are we happy or sad that we made our way through

The infinite tangle of days

To this morning? Where finally things will progress,

Where the folding of time won’t clear up our mess

And we can either rejoice that we found our way home

Or look back, with longing,

To those infinite days in the snow