The pat of margarine skitters,
skitters across the frying pan,
the crackling ushering in a day full of promise.
The smell of simmering
fills my nostrils with ambition.
Today I will do the dishes, pay
the bills, return my phone calls.
Then I will hail myself a conquering hero,
lay palm branches at my feet,
and record it in my journal so I can
crow at my therapist next Thursday.
Then the demons come, a cadre
of storm troopers, tramping, tramping,
crushing the heads of children into the dust.
They shriek like locusts
devouring ripe wheat fields into powder.
I look at the pile of bills.Â It looms,
looms like a grand jury, handing down
scathing indictments on multiple counts.
The dirty dishes skulk,
skulk in the sink, yammering like a
gaggle of filthy street urchins.
The phone messages swim,
swim around in my brain like
an infestation of leeches.
I look at the frying pan.Â It has an
oily brown patina now,
the color of dried blood,
impossible to clean.
For want of an egg, the skillet is lost.
For want of a nail, the kingdom...
For want of a mind,
Â© 1999,2012 Douglas J. Westberg. All Rights Reserved. Â From The Caterpillar, forthcoming from Chipmunka Publishing. Please share this on Gather.com, and elsewhere on the web by means of a link back to this page, but please do not copy. Â Doug's latest book is The Depressed Guy's Book of Wisdom from Chipmunka Publishing.
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