i am here because i took a running leap onto a pillow, to slide down the hallway, then cut my chin, and now i need 3 stitches.

it’s not what you think

            Thank God says my

            grandmother on the phone, suddenly,

to someone unknown

            we can make it an afternoon if that’s better for you

            feel better now okay

it’s not what you think, though

everything’s fine - they’re just talking about a card game or maybe

a meeting of some kind, the cards came in so the plans are still on and she has to RSVP for the bat mitzvah of someone’s granddaughter but -

it’s not what you think, she was married before, so it’s really her step-granddaughter, but at this point, it doesn’t matter, his first wife has died, so this

is as good as it gets

and besides it’s the thought that counts?

but it’s not what you think.  You thought you’d get up early, go for a walk to the sink, try to cough up all the damage from last night but

it’s not coming out

it’s sinking in deep, holding tight to your heart till everything seems

like it’s not what you thought or it’s not what it should be

if you had only just stepped outside earlier, or tomorrow, or last week

and started walking some other direction,

where there are more green lights, less stop signs, or less caution tape or less calls from the sidelines to come in from the rain or

try something new that’s more safe.

it’s not what you think - it can’t be that great.  try a different pill, increase your dosage, give it time, just wait . . .

it will get better and in the meantime

help me vacuum

fold the socks

now i'm on the train home. it is hot and crowded, and full of people with a slightly dazed, mildly desperate look in their eye, like at least 43% could be convinced to throw it all away and go back to the land. 

the other 57% of us are avoiding that uncomfortable notion by staring at our phones, myself included.people are half crazed, half resigned. about what, to what end, no one really knows anymore.  the good old days were those when your existential distress proceeded from the general difficulties of just being a person on earth, without any exacerbating circumstances (if such "good old days" ever existed, i think that's the best that can be said about them). for the western world, anyway, those good old days of worry could be tipped in favor of focusing on the individual self.  we were not prepared for collectivism.