On the Rocks
poetry
On the Rocks He did not play god diagnose an exotic disease or scrub in with a nurse in the supply room. He did the most natural thing instead. He broke down. Soon everyone was breaking down. The other doctors, nurses, police, paramedics. I turned the channel. Even the news anchors on Fox were breaking down. Or crying from joy about the misfortune of others. Imagine us all losing control together. Imagine our daily mask and armor no longer able to hold the dam of chaos within. Drivers slumping over the wheel. Crashes on the highway. Subway riders drowning in their own Alice tears. No way to get a good latte. But what if we made Wednesday an official international breakdown day? Could we achieve mass catharsis? I didn’t break down when I heard the news in the last month of my 12-month contract in the desert hell of Arabia that my wife had stolen the money I sent her, fallen for someone else. I went to the roof of a 20-story building mustered the courage about to jump when the clouds formed the shape of our dog Argos who seemed to say It’s not true. Don’t believe it. You know yours is a common story around here, Odysseus. I stayed for another year. I didn't break down until breaking down the whole way home.
What stayed with me is the moment when endurance finally gives way. The breakdown does not arrive at the edge of the roof, but much later, on the way home. That delay makes the poem feel painfully true.
Incredibly written heartbreak, human slap in the last stanza. Latte included x