If I have ever been anything, it’s low level angry
And low level anxious. Not always at the same time.
Back in the early 1800s, a person once remarked that
“Southern men are touchy about their honor.” Got it.
But the anxiety can be so distracting. It’s like some jangly
Train on a steady loop, going around and around.
And the worry is inevitably because I can’t resolve
The blasted matter at hand NOW, damn it.
I’ve made up long strings of conversations in my head:
Scenarios: Someone says this and I reply this.
Someone says this happened and I have the explanation.
And so on. Blah, blah. Nothing ever happens exactly
The way my rabitting brain voice rehearsed.
I do not consider myself devious.
I do not lie. I am not above misleading.
Funny thing: sometimes if I touch bare iron
Into deep ground, I can be relieved a bit.
I can also, I think, hold onto a ground wire
And dissipate the annoying worry energy.
But that could just me thinking antenna theory.