Count Yer Blessings

I am so blessed.
I have work and three credit cards in good standing
long, thick hair that grows well
real breasts
vital internal organs
and time.

I am so lucky.
I have a sense of humor
common sense
street smarts
two degrees
four tattoos
and a clean bloodstream.
I have a complete set of straight white teeth
excellent eyesight
long, thin fingers
and minimal body hair issues.

I am so fortunate.
I have free Internet
minimal debt
multiple web pages
three email addresses
two computers
one iPhone
zero children
and some blogs.
I can be connected with someone who loves me
from anywhere in the world
I have access to
and 2 ½ languages.

I am full of grace.
I can run jump walk swim climb dance
drive a little car
or a big truck
or hail a cab.
I can figure out a decent solution
to any problem
I can feel for my Self
as well as others
I can express my Self
in word song movement tears
I can eat almost anything
drink water from rural wells in developing countries
without getting ill
I can be around fur fin claw spiders and snakes
without being afraid.
I can give myself a French pedicure 
or do twenty pushups
without stopping.

I am so rich
I have a hilarious cat
generous, quiet neighbors
a cheerful dry cleaner that knows my name
the smartest realtor ever
minimal allergies
a garden of my own
a healthy supermarket  nearby
and a master hairdresser
who charges me her prices from
seven years ago.

I am so blessed!

So why
is it so rarely

© S. Rinderle, 2012


I thought it was you
but you’re not
the only one
my lonely drug
you’re just the latest addition
to my pantheon
of addiction
an assortment of stimulants
external stimuli
that regulate my nervous system
through a series
of temporary distractions
and temporary highs
as judgment-free as
networking mixers
heart pounding workouts
adrenalized action movies
fatty treats, sugary sweets
mutual orgasms and
shared laughter
similar in their intensity
and the eventual low
at their eventual end
I find my torso sliding backwards again
into a familiar pit
my long arms scrambling
at the unreliable gravel
and unstable sand
that ring its hostile maw
tightening around me
looking frantically back to see
what’s pulling me down
and once again
it’s the weight of my
own two feet.

You mistake my toughness
for enoughness
and the embarrassing truth is
I feel neither
and even doubt the courage I pride
as mere recklessness
or stubborn denial
it’s not just you
and yet still I sink
flailing but resigned
since neither staying
nor leaving
will save
or solve
nor fill
the yawning pit

© S. Rinderle, 2013