I’ve been thinking about the way,
when someone knocks over a glass,
the first thing we say is, be careful
not to cut yourself as you pick up
the pieces. The mess becomes an
afterthought. What matters is that
nobody gets hurt. And sometimes
when the person in front of you
in line can’t decide what they want
they let you go ahead, assuming you
have somewhere more important
to be. And yet — I am teaching myself
to forgive the tiniest betrayals. The
everyday crossing of wires as our
pinpricks of light zoom across
the sky. When someone forgets to say
thank you. Someone not catching my
name. Cancelled plans I’d been
looking forward to. A stranger who
steps on the back of my shoe. When
something breaks, the pieces that
could cut us are small but our lives
are smaller. I keep reminding myself
that so are we. There are things we
can’t help but carry. But since
everything that has ever happened
is behind us, what else is there left
to do but be a small kind speck?
A new glass is set down in front
of me. Sweat drips down the sides
in the summer night heat. I bring it
to my lips and taste the sweet cold
liquid. It is the color of a ripe,
unbruised peach. I let it slide
down my throat like a promise.
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