the least resistant path

i look

for the elevator now.

the low curb,

the staircase

with a rail,

the handle on the bus,

or train.

i look

for a helping hand

as i board

the plane.

i'm thankful when

someone holds

the door for me.

at last

i am my father

despite everything

i claim.

so far, so good

it's the month

of graduations, of weddings.

of beach

trips.

vacations.

it's the halfway point

of the long

year.

you congratulate

yourself

for still being here.

we're in the middle of it.

so far

so good.

but the end is always

near.

Sugar Anonymous

i'm glad

i never took any drugs

when growing up.

i may have

an addictive personality.

take donuts

and cake

for instance,

or ice-cream.

i should be in sugar

anonymous,

introducing myself.

my name

is Jimmy.

and i like little Debbie cakes.

i've been

three hours without

a snicker's bar,

or a big Gulp,

i'd tell the welcoming

group

as my hands

would shake.

the shower down the hall

i prefer

the shower in the hall.

the water

pressure

is amazing, the water

is so cold

and refreshing.

sometimes

she has to knock on the door

to see if i'm

okay,

to see if i've fallen.

what are you

doing in there, she asks.

as i linger

in the bathroom,

being kissed

by an ice-cold waterfall.

when the curtain rises

it's

all unscripted, although

it doesn't feel

that way

at times.

we've been through this

before.

the dress rehearsals,

the practiced

lines.

we've

learned when to enter

and stand

on the stage.

each new day

seems like the day

before

as the curtain of night,

without applause,

at last rises.