Fifty Percent

I’m one of those people who fifty percent
of the time sees the worst in things.
Fifty percent of the time I like my job.
Fifty percent of the time I’m crazy about
my wife. Fifty percent of the time I like
myself, my kid, my houses, my state.
Roughly fifty percent of my days
have been sunshine. Fifty percent of the used
vehicles I’ve owned have been up to snuff.
Last night for my birthday my wife
took me to our favorite Italian restaurant.
It cost about 50 bucks. It was one of those
times we really enjoyed being out together.
That happens about half the times we go out –
we don’t go out that much. I had a calzone
which was pretty good and a small pitcher.

She had the shrimp and a half carafe,
good but not as good as last time. I was so tired
on the way home the car drifted a couple of times
and I had to catch myself. No one was on the road
for Friday night and we made it without
incident. By the time I’d walked the dog
and visited with our boy awhile, she was sound
asleep. I read three pages and turned out the light.
This morning I got up, went to the bathroom
noticing I was damn thirsty, unusual for me.
I turned on the water to scoop a handful
into my mouth and thought suddenly of refugees
with dry throats, fleeing misery to misery, especially
refugees with tents. The water hit the spot.
At least half of today I’ll be thinking about
thirsty refugees, my good fortune.


Gerry Stork’s new chapbook available now from Grandma Moses Press. 

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