Serious language, deep language, real language helps me by grounding me. I don’t have to be nice for company when I can just tell the truth. I needn’t have guests with virgin ears or unrealistic expectations, and I no longer pander to such foolishness. I know the layered meanings of my words and value the intensity of a large vocabulary. I am not intimidated by prudish co-conspirators who stare down pointed noses at powerful utterances. Weak words make poor boundaries and breed victims. I will not be trapped by niceties; I will speak clearly out of necessity.
Allow your integrity to increase the value of your truth.
The price of upkeep scares me, it daunts me even.
I pay the initial cost, I have bitten that bullet
of required outlay; the continued charges for maintenance
push my face in the mud until my ears clog.
Avoiding the need of perpetual responsibility
to things, relationships, life, doesn’t change the reality,
rather it embeds in my skin a slick denial and an indignant retort
to the drycleaners and shoe-shiners of the world.
Waste and want play tag inside a misunderstanding
of what is required of me; of what life requires in general.
I must make quietude, draw a map
and find my way to this psychic change;
Unfortunately all the little voices scream
“Yes, you paid the price to see the show,
but you don’t make enough to stay!”
You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault