A Poem for the Second of December

Purchasing welcome the
things we do every day (I
prefer a shoe that zips or
slips) and the thousand life-
-or-death decisions that 
must be made before 
supper tend to blunt 
and deaden the sharper
pains of living.

A look backwards (a week
was plenty, according to
the ancients) affords a better
way to look forward.  It isn’t
that the jabs must be
catalogued like hotel guests
as they pass, but if you
would know why sleeping
on your side (or back, 
or stomach) seems necessary,
count how many times you
have smiled or held
a door for another person.

Who, when fully grown,
did not want to be the 
one (not like Helen, solely 
because of her beauty) capable 
of launching a decent holiday 
dinner?

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