Who is more powerless: the person driving down the road with his cup of coffee on the roof of the car, or the one who sees it happen? Lost in mental chaos, lost to the small things, I set the cup and forget, or content and serene, I am examining details and notice the oddness. When my mind wanders I am helpless in the whirlpool and suction. When I am grounded I am struck by the separate sealedness of the carnival around me. Potential rides on the top; will it fall forward or back? Will there be a sticky haze on the front windshield or the rear? Or I could remember at the stoplight and spare myself everything but the embarrassment. As the observer I try to be helpful, I point and jump and shout, calling the predicament to the attention of others in an attempt to increase my chances of success. We all stand as the coffee speeds away to unknown disaster.
Wear your boldness like a mane.
I live a simple life now;
I handle life as it is dished up.
I no longer need to make use of the dish prison.
Living an orderly active life I find it untenable
to have my favorite spoon or bowl held hostage
until I make enough mess to run the dishwasher through.
I don’t live an ‘Eight is Enough’ type existence
and need not burden my psyche
trying to save my hands a little soap.
I save the Cascade for visits to waterfalls,
Jet Dry for landing strips.
You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault