slowly my fingers unroll from my fist
one by one, I count to ten, my breathing coming easier with each finger.
the system and I have been together for 29 years
a new book, a hard problem, a debate
understanding how the system moves and flows
where to push and where to follow
my favorite game was always to avoid the sharp bits
the parts that would catch and end in my unravelling
once i missed 45 of 90 days of a class in a term
i cried
i was given a B.
ten years later i stood in a different place
inside, with useless tools
a hammer, sometimes
a chisel
hitting, carefully or not
always trying, rarely denting
pounding at the unjust cogs
right is confusing and wrong?
i am so often wrong.
stings a little. sometimes a lot.
my personal eradication of public waterworks, tears no longer weapons
rivers of frustration flood my home
and now
the system, so indestructible
come hammer, come chisel, come bulldozer, and even cement trucks
it had stood so tall, replicating itself.
harm, over harm, over harm, over harm.
now, it stands still, looks more and more as though it has always been
glass
shatterable with one small hard stone
one two three four five six seven eight nine ten
listen.
with the system still
voices come through
possibility
possibly.
a brand new line. 