water off a duck

it starts
with the slight
bump on the edge
of a table and
the vase, the gift
vase that you
treasured goes
toppling over
into a dozen pieces
and a plume of dust.
and then you
dribble coffee onto
your clean white
shirt, creased
and starched and
ready for a tie,
for a day at work.
the cell phone
dies, a nail finds
your tire and goes
flat, your dog
is suddenly limping
and foaming at
the mouth, your
son calls with bad news
about his girlfriend,
you get to work
and they tell you
to sit down before
they give you the
low down about
the layoffs,
on the way home
you take a different
route and see your
wife going into
a motel six with
jimmy, your electrician
who installed your
ceiling fans. it's
not a good day, but
you find the time
to stop and grab
a donut just the same.