doesn’t stop here
even when or if
you step out there
in its way
it doesn’t stop here.
Eventually, if we live long enough and are lucky enough
they all go away. The final payment is due, is done
and somehow we’ve won. We have accomplished
the burning mortgage, fully owned appliances, a car.
Everything secure so far. But we have built our lives
around them, piled them up, added to them and then
refinanced everything again. We stacked and stored
them, borrowed from Peter to pay Paul, one step
ahead of one step behind, but we didn’t mind. They
have been a major feature of the landscape of our lives,
the mountains and the mole hills, the avalanches and
the earthquakes. They have held us together and pulled
us apart, a conversation piece we’d miss, a topic we
avoid. They send us off to work in the morning and
greet us at the end of the day and never seem to go away.
Explaining the 60s, Once More
I remember “moderation” quite well,
It haunted the schools I attended.
We read Aristotle, as they intended,
And discussed, if I remember correctly,
How his ethics fit what we had for lives.
Everything in moderation – we read in
Moderation, discussed what we had read
In moderation, saw the wonders of
Moderation in the ensuing moderation,
Understood it and went on to live it
In moderation, knew the dangers of
The alternatives, how extremes become
Unseemly, how they become unbecoming,
Nothing to excess we mumbled and
Then we moved on, graduated and
Became models of moderation, but
That didn’t last all that very long
J. K. Durick is a writing teacher at the Community College of Vermont and an online writing tutor. His recent poems have appeared in Eskimo Pie, Record, Yellow Chair Review, Eye on life Magazine, and Leaves of Ink.