I woke up this morning,
I was born. I
hit my knees
as a suggestion. I counted to twelve
throughout the day.
I was both fast and slow, I went in and out. I stopped eating, for a bit. I worked
a resentment
like a meaty bone
all afternoon and
finally, I just threw it away. I'm a channel of
peace and an instrument of
love, after all.
Also, a liar, a cheat, and a thief. I'm
what you've got. We're family! I injured you, though
I don't remember how, or when, or why. Nevertheless,
I'm sorry. Really sorry. I do what I can
to amend the situation. $147.50 and a
hand-written letter of apology
that you can keep
forever. FOREVER.
I'm so relieved. Are you relieved? You may still have your
antennae up. Its not a bad idea, actually. It could be
your signal pick-ups
that lead to the rigorous honesty we
will need to ACCURATELY
count up all the knives, forks, clocks, coffee mugs
that 1. constitute our little inventory of defects and defective people, places and things
2. keeps us out of that particular, special hellhole
where our chances
are less than average. I went there
once and trust me, my newcomer, my new friend
YOU DO NOT WANT TO BE SO UNFORTUNATE. That's a
very thinly veiled metaphor
by the way. So anyway, getting
back to today,
You do not want to screw around with that place. That place
will eat you
alive.
You could die.
In case I'm wrong, however,
I sincerely apologize.
Have a cup of coffee.
Have a cookie. Listen,
shut up. Its a miracle, but
you'll be OK.
Use your numbers. Come back. Tell your story. Tell it humbly.
Keep at it. Keep it up.
Good for you (applause)! Keep coming back! We love you!
You can have a hug, probably, if you want one.
That's all there is to it.
