I wish to ponder the nature of sticky notes. Back in the caveman days, you had to have a good-sized rock and then another rock to be able to pound your message out:

Don’t forget mammoth herd coming through after sunrise!

Then we progressed to pounding paper from trees and scratching out our message or list with ink made from plants. We took nails, tacks or glue to adhere the paper where we would see it:

Don’t forget to twist hay into sticks to burn in stove.

Finally, some genius figured out how to put stickiness on little papers and stack them all up into a pile for easy use. For a long time, they were only yellow and 3×3. Now, they come in all colors and sizes; lined, unlined, or graph paper style. I walk into an office supply store and stand there, stunned, by all the choices and possibilities. Who would ever have imagined it?! In homage to sticky notes, my list poem:

Lists!

Lists, lists, lists- How many lists can one person have?

Lists for class:

Commentary

Multi-topic

Second nature

Drills at school

Bring your laptop

Popcorn and fruit

Look up Rooney, philosophy of a conference.

Lists for the stable:

Your watch

That hat

Boots and gloves

Lots of Pepsi

A new pack of gum, Orbit please

Oreo’s bridle

That special horse-skin-loving mohair cinch for Smokey’s tender hide.

Lists for home:

Food

Alex says, “There’s nothing to eat, mom.”

I say, “I have class, homework, lists…”

Pick up more Jolly Time white kernel popping corn, eggs, that squash soup you planned to have last night, but it was gone, no time to stop anyway.

Lists, lists, lists- lists of conferences, poetry to send, a message for Jared about his stupid Alien Ware computer (aka, the lemon), that water pump that needs replaced, the oil that should have been changed, call Dion, call Peg, don’t forget dinner at Elaine’s…

Maybe I need a list of my lists, so I don’t forget which list is where and who needs what and when:

• maybe
• maybe not