Sunday, July 27, 2008


A sharp and clever face
A biting wit
A fertile thumb
A feeling for the dough
Facility with words sufficient to bamboozle even me
Innumerable bruises at any give time, inside and out
A deep unease
     About my motivations, certainties, and trust
Compassion, hobbled by my doubts
Astounding arrogance and pride
     Combined with expectations none could meet, especially me
A small mole on the sole of my left foot
A callused right forefinger (balancing my blade)
A twining net of scars upon my arm, the map of my impatience
A hunch there can be more, even after forty-seven years
The list will grow and change...

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