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Sunday, April 8, 2012


There is this book which has been
following me around for weeks now.
Actually, not following so much as
accompanying, fitting nicely in
my hand, or atop my journal
in my man purse.
The book is important.
That’s why I bought it.
It is about hope, and also about
the mind, about laughing at, but
not making an enemy of
the latter.
I say that’s what it is about,
but I don’t know for sure,
only what the dust jacket blurb says.
I can’t seem to get by the introduction,
not in the den, nor poolside,
heck, not even at he library.
My core seems obdurate in
its resistance to change, or growth.
I will say that, pages unread,
that book seems still to be
having an impact.
I think about hope all the time.
A good thing, too, since
I have friends who will not see year’s end,
and a 50-year reunion requiring
a 50-pound weight loss,
and a home for sale.
Small things, really,
except for that part about my friends,
but in the greater scheme of things,
I’m a pretty small fish in
a very big pond, or, at most,
like one of those salmon,
returning to their place of creation,
encountering resistance at every turn.
I hope this hope thing is
not overrated. The book is heavy,
the thoughts too, sometimes.

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