this is how the world works:
43 steps from the parking lot to the front door of the library, if she can close the distance, ascend the stairs, every other landing, without tripping or grabbing the handrail, and reach the door in less than 43 seconds, the world will not end
she’ll ace all her nursing certifications, make better tips at the diner, the car won’t break down for another month, and the landlord won’t notice another cat, she slings her bag and plants her feet, on your mark… get set… be graceful
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jalopy dreams 
The brevity here defines a state of being that is jagged and complex more than a million words could. I feel this way almost every day, and I know I’m not alone–the new zeitgeist bequeaths us this sense of shallow breaths quickly taken, fingers crossed, approaches rushed, consequences terrifying and hiding disguised in minutia. Excellent stuff, Phillip–always good to read you.
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thank you joy, this poem worked out well i think. i will be by your blog a little later to catch up
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No worries or hurries, Phillip.I don’t expect anyone to read everything I write. My latest is just a kind of mangled draft. You might like the one preceding it, (Philosopher by Moonlight) a little more and it’s short. 😉
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Ah the illusion of control.
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exactly… thank you miss black, i’ll be by a little later to read your new stuff, i’ve got a lot of catching up to do
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Ha ha ha. I get this, to my core. So right on. 🙂
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Still loving (on) this piece. It warms my heart. I love her and want to read more tiny poems, just like this one, about her. Please? She reminds of of the Pay It Forward momma. I hope you give her good luck. ❤
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well, this poem was a passing observation, so i doubt i’ll ever see/meet this person again, but i am working on some new poems that you might like. thanks shawna, love that you loved this
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