Maniacs on Pogo Sticks

January 3


Maniacs on Pogo Sticks



I fear maniacs on pogo sticks peeping through my rural second story windows as the smoke of paranoia curls between my ears.  Overestimating my interest to others causes me as much harm as the underestimation. Attributing super powers to onlookers is a parlor trick my ego plays to keep me occupied while my life passes by.  I sacrifice all my possibilities for fear of what could be stolen through my keyhole.  I cut off my face to spite my poor lonely nose.  I must move forward in spite of my disquietude for the future lay ahead, yet I do console myself that it is harder to hit a moving target.




Use honey to get the peas to stick to your knife







I show up at a meeting
I didn’t know the circus was in town
I expected calm, demure, sober behavior
My expectations were dashed, my bubble burst.

There were people streaming back and forth in front of the speaker
There were kids playing among the chairs
Smokers worked the meeting in shifts
Hustling out the back door and smoldering back in.

The side conversations rivaled the main attraction
People dressed for the street not the meeting, the bibby shirt, tights and no skirt
Was more of a high-wire act then I had ever seen before
Shock cannot even begin to describe the state of my mind.

“But for the grace of God” said my sponsor
“No” I said “It’s a choice, they’re sober now.”
“Oh yes” she remarked “Weren’t you sober when you took on
Every man with time, looking for a fight with each of them?”

“I was cutting my chops. They understood.”
“Some of them didn’t.” said she
“Weren’t you sober when you dyed your hair red – but only half?”
” I was afraid I’d dye my scalp, so I started lower.”

“Yes, but aren’t you the one who says sudden hair color change
Is a sign of instability in sobriety?”
“Yes, I do.” I replied
“I think you would have fit in well with the circus.
You and your two tone hair but you didn’t hear it from me.”
“You’re mean.”
“And what are you being?”

“That’s my girl, what are we going to do about it?”
“Be grateful, grateful I got in quick enough
Grateful people let me work things out in these rooms.
Grateful I still have something to learn from everyone. GRATEFUL.”





You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault


About Sherrie Theriault

Sherrie Theriault, writer and outsider artist lives in northwest New Jersey where she writes villain-free fiction for children and young adults, creates coloring books for all ages, writes daily inspiration books for the recovery community and has other works of collected poetry; also adult fiction. Books available on include the following: Cala Mae The Deep Dark Day In The Congenial Chronicles The Holland’s Adventure Fill Me In Fill Me In, Too Filled In Sober on the Way to Sane More Sober on the Way to Sane Lines from My Life More Lines from My Life On-Liners to Live By My Sponsor Said… Elissa: Queen of Carthage Was Love Lost Order of Protection The Story Precedes the Question Can You See? What the Birdies Told Me about You What the Birdies Told Me about You Coloring book The Enchanting Dog Sherrie’s books are available at Blue Stockings, Manhattan, NY, The Clinton Book Shoppe, Clinton, New Jersey, Giovanni’s Room, Philadelphia, PA, Easy Does It in Long Beach, CA and The Latest Thing in Costa Mesa, Ca. You can find Sherrie’s art work at Hang-Ups Gallery in Allentown, PA or online at: Please feel free to contact her there if you have any questions.
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