People will say
I'm dreadful-
ly boring
and dry
as a newspaper
strung on a clothesline
and only willing
to paint inside
the lines with
proprietary utensils
the color of eggshells.
I would retort
that they
must not consider
the hell
that I suffer
every day
to keep every moment
precisely the same.
Trying to maneuver
and manipulate
one's body
into all the same places
at the same times of day
over and over
without falling back
on the nets of despair
requires flair
and some remarkable
poise under pressure.
In short,
no game demands
greater concentration
than threading
the needle
of remaining unchanged.
It may not be glorious
or attract
many spectators,
but mine is a sport
full of high-wire balance
for which
only the chastened
have got enough patience.
