I skipped the other day -
you can skip,
when no one's watching.
Make of innocence such delicious guilt
-gilded pleasures,
like any childhood game.
In adulthood, the game becomes:
don't ever let them catch you playing
it!
You can't let someone see
you skip,
but sometimes you have to
- shhhhh!
I had good reason,
too. I'd had a call
from somebody who'd been going non stop
bad news for weeks, me rationing commiseration
and hope, in equal measure - but
without much reason for either, when
I saw the phone light up,
my heart sank,
because
by then, it had been conditioned to.
All those bad news weeks, days in rows for months,
for someone you always loved
talking to.
And still do, but
- of course I picked up.
I left the place where people were,
I went out back, used the excuse
of a cigarette or two,
and was much lightened: two
of the worst three crises
had turned to triumph! And
apparently,
I'd given advice
which she said she took all of.
But I didn't remember giving any.
Anyway, it helped,
and I skipped
all the way back. Except
when I crossed the doorway,
suddenly I realized
- I should walk a bit more normally.
Pity, that.
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