Stress crowded behind her eyes, causing them to itch
A bruise on her knee grows bigger, from green to purple
And the stress breaks into tears as she walks down the street
walking to stop the thinking.
Get it taken care of it. Get it organized. Get it under control.
Stuff a sleeping bag into a stuff sack and imagine hiking.
Drink questionable milk, taco rice, and think about eating cantaloupe.
Hey look, the world revolves whether or not my brain wants it to
and it’s an optimistic revolution, really, because as time passes
worries seem more and more unfounded, everything working out.
Hey look, guilt does not have to be my companion
for I am loved, wanted, and talented, good at what I do, if not perfect.
I strap the backpack on my shoulders, pack
marshmallows, chocolate, graham crackers,
and my husband reads the goose girl frantically,
waiting for the perfect ending.