it can be difficult to make friends when you are a know-it-all

most of the ice has melted
but still we are provided
ample opportunity
for a fall.

when i am at work
i do not much want to do
anything.
not much of anything
other than be there.

when the day is no longer
requiring me to work,
then i can consider
doing something
other than only being.

we tell tales of ants
and look pridefully
at their industrious ethic,
though still we squash them
with our genocidal heels.
some of us
even
focus on their tiny movements
with such intensity that
we smell smoke.

“are you
having a
stroke,
or did you
just walk by a
Subway?”,
i say to mock my friend,
calling into jest
his roundness,
the burning
“ffffsssssttt!!”
of our departures.

it isn’t enough
to be,
that seems
to be
the moral of
the story.

the ice is freezing
or it is melting
but either way
it is doing.

i walk into a room
populated,
maybe governed,
by people
i don’t know well.

“what do
you do?”
they ask me.

unsure of how to answer,
i swirl the ice in my cup
until a sluice of water
spills onto my shirt.
embarrassed,
a bit confused,
we smile,
chuckle,
and shift our sliding feet.

Published by Zak

an intertidal island in an ocean of impermanence.

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