it takes so little to set me off--

breathing

for example--

and my fellow bipeds

blundering into me

even if the street were empty

and no one else around

two or three of them

will out of nowhere

cross my path and block my progress

or the annoyances of a loved one--

you love her you'll die for her

and yet she does this thing

with thick-headed insistence on a point

or constant push-backs over stupid little things

late fifties and still acting like a stubborn child

trying to prove something--

or being crushed by the noise and stress

of the hated city in which I grew up

and which the town mice come to nibble on their vanity

and their yearning for significance

Big Apple my ass--I hate the place

always have

and it's the place it seems God will never allow

me to leave--

so it takes so little to set me off--

the vengeance of God

the dismissed lament of the punished--

the misrule of the "good"--

it takes so little to set me off

but here it all is

in abundance

Content (c) 2008-2011 Philip Milito.