A resolution goes laughably awry. |
My resolution for two thousand fifteen was to abate stress the best that I could. I vowed a vow at the end of December to ease and chill for my overall good. It seemed appropriate goal for yours truly; high hopes all right yet not touching the sky. I vowed it as that Time’s Square ball was falling; (I am a practical sort of a guy.) Yet before long as the new year found footing, my resolution turned into a mess. Because they came full of spirited pulling-- they were the Gallant Suppliers of stress. Shiny white suits with cigar smoke in passing, bulky in mass charging in like a bull. Strong-arming, neck-wrenching shoulder pang bullies; I like a puppet was there for the pull. “Come, let us disjoint you,” they said with smiles; my resolution in memory balked. I ran as far as intention could take me, yet with resolve did those gallant ones stalk. I hid beneath Grandma’s afghan in silence; I meditated while breathing in deep. Later when prone on my old queen-sized mattress, Gallant Suppliers came purloining sleep. Then in the morning I said to Suppliers: “You do not own me--I am my own boss!” Yet through the day they continued to bind me; it was like being tied with dental floss. So I drove gladly on countryside highways, taking in views of the bucolic land. But the Suppliers adhered to my bumper, gallantly riding as if it were planned. Rounding a bend I discovered a tavern; I went inside since unwinding was dear. But when the waitress brought draft to my table, those from my bumper put egg in my beer. The more I tried to find ease, I was countered; it became rib-tickling slapping of knee. And at the first sign of stress mitigation, Gallant Suppliers guffawed gleefully. 40 Lines (Rhythm: 11-10-11-10) Writer’s Cramp 1-1-15 |