December 30
CARGO LOST, CARGO FOUND
I fill the pallet of a new year's sobriety and, when it has
been accomplished, make a manifest and strap this pallet with the others on the
flatbed of my life. The cargo is secure
and weighty; there is ample pressure where the rubber meets the road. I maneuver my rig carefully. I feel assured as I stream with the traffic
on the byways. The power and magnitude
of my transport prompts in me overconfidence.
I fail to realize variation in weather or road conditions can jeopardize
my journey. Eighteen wheels make for a poor cantilever when traction is lost
and top-heavy wins out. In losing the
battle of gravity, inertia and control I realize the past is not a weight I need
to haul; all that is necessary is the inventory. I slip the pages into my pocket and walk the
rest of the way. I am my only freight.
Medicate with
laughter and tears.
*
Can’t Walk Back
I chase my reading list, lose my place, fall down, can’t
find my page; suddenly there is a whole library beyond my grasp. I write as fast as I can and so do my fellows
the result is more than I can read in three lifetimes. The glory and pain of freedom is the
constriction of time. I claw at the
minutes but the days slip quickly out of reach.
How can I get the great work poured into my mind while still allowing
original thought to flow from me? I ask God if I can be reincarnated with my
backlist intact but there is no reply. I
know in my heart this life is like hang-gliding on the beach; my shoes and
socks are left behind and I fly off over open sea. So if we are friends now that is surely
grand, but if you want to be my friend later, just take a walk in my shoes.
