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Poem

Today on our morning dog walk in the hills 
I use my wife  
for a role she’s supremely suited for, 
a reflective foil for my own psycho-analytical musings. 
And with her just uttering a judicious word or two 
I discover this; 
 
figuring out which comes first, 
impulsive or compulsiveness, 
is a bit like the chicken or egg question, 
but since it’s obvious it’s the egg 
I’ll hazard the guess, compulsion comes before impulse 
(the habit to act and respond to stimuli). 
But then before or more basic than this physical reflex 
comes a general disregard for taking things seriously 
(the emotional attitudinal coping mechanism if not skill), 
which in turn is based on the most basic ground of ignorance; 
willfully ignoring consequences, situational awareness, and thus reality itself. 
 
Here I discover the root of the problem. 

I thank my wife for her silent session, 
and she, tactfully, doesn’t respond 
by presenting a bill. 
 
At this point my running tab is approaching infinite. 
I think they call that, “priceless.”

(6/24/23)

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