| Mirabile Dictu Not quite ten o'clock—9:57 a.m. to be exact. I haven't poured my second cup of coffee yet. I'm worrying about wasting my time, Disappointing myself. My two hands can't get it together. They're somehow afraid to applaud my best efforts. No matter what I do, it is never enough. Countless clock hands strike their poses, Can't wait to tell me my time is up. I need a miracle every moment. To be a realist is to believe in miracles, To believe that one day I'll be home All cozy and warm before the storm breaks; Not at the bus stop getting soaked to the skin Cursing the umbrella I didn't bring. To believe in miracles is to greet reality One step ahead of the game. Pride is always what trips me up, Tricks me into attempting to turn Every day to my direction Instead of turning myself. If there is a trick, I am not the trickster. I must stop All this nonsense with numbers. While I am worrying about wasting my time, Discounting all of my efforts, Sitting like some wallflower subtrahend Ultimately unsubtractive, Time is having its way. If there is a trick, Time and again the trick's on me. I myself am the miracle every moment lets happen. |