Press On

Rivalry and revelry in equal dosage. 
Three parts fresh air and one part mustard gas,
Two parts whiskey, and a pinch of optimism. 

Mix thoroughly in an autumn bowl of clouds
On a crust of torn tarpaper leaves.

Green, orange, red, and yellow.  All colors.

Maple, oak, cherry, and birch.  All kinds.

Use an antique cutting board carved in bougainvilla.
Notice the wordwork out of the woodwork.
Gather the smells and press on.
Cut in half carelessly and slice a fingetip.

Bleed.  Accept the pain and press on yet.

Throw out one half.  Miss it.
Learn to love what’s left.
Press on.

Knead into appropriate density al dente. 
Snowdays like chiffon for some filling,
Snow, cold and numb, for the rest.
Find a small ramekin.
Try to force it in. Fail.
Grimace and go without.

Add embellishments and superfluous
Exaggerations, expectiations, and
Exasperation like antimony and thallium. 
Season with bittersweet hopes and bittersick thoughts. 
Garnish with complimentary company.
Salt all wounds.

Simmer long and slow at flash point.

Watch the smoke fill the room.

Wipe your eyes.

Breathe deep.