It doesn’t matter
how much talent
you have. Nor
how long you’ve
worked at it. Nor
an apprenticeship
or the amount of
legwork you’ve
chalked up doing
whatever it is that
you do. That you
want to do. Well,
whether or not you
want to be doing it
or anything else.
Soberly, I rose
to the occasion,
tipped my hat,
twisted an about-
face, all but tip
toed off the stage
and practically fell
out the door and
into the traffic.
Before that big
truck hit the bus
iness that was me,
did I hear – how
might I even recol
lect? – the sweet
sound of the city
as it whooped its
obligatory cresc
endo into that
swollen and
slightly off-
key yet mes
merizing chord?
Who cares. I
whipped my
drained and
deranged body
of business “out
of harm’s way,”
and skipped
toward the
bedizened
horizon and into
an inevitable
oblivion.
