Speculating Yourself To Death
She speculated in the morning that the dump truck might not come.
But it did.
So she worried that it might fall apart in front of her driveway, blocking her in,
But it did not.
She then speculated that the garbage man might ask her for a cool drink of water,
So she took it out,
But by the time she had laboriously climbed the sixteen outside steps
And finally arrived at the curb, the enormous green garbage truck was gone.
She speculated that the driver had sped up so he would not have to drink her water.
Not entertaining a single thought that she might have been wrong.
She is luxuriously swinging in her freshly-painted porch swing now,
Worrying over and over that her mailman might trip over the rusty garden rake
That her husband left lying across their sidewalk last night.
What if he breaks his neck? She thought.
What will we do then?
Will he sue us?
She spent the whole
Day worrying and
Speculating.
Never thinking
To simply
Move the
Rake.
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