Spirited Set of Losses

Discount the velocity of the way this daily bondage of mindless escapes into simple traffic and you will know my life. There is no elevation of thinking. There is no grain sewn on fertile ground. There is no rip tide to pull me under and release the pain through the thoroughly saline fascia. Instead I endure the panic of standing in line at the grocery store waiting for the phone to ring or the cashier to notice me with something more than wondering words-- if I found the paper products and strawberries and a crisp white wine to drown myself in that spirited set of losses.