Uncle Bob's Words

Words, poetry, stuff like that

If I Have Ever Been

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.


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