The space feels… tense.
Perhaps not tense, meaningful.
It’s not a lot of space, it’s when it occurs and how.
It’s the way it feels.
The excuses made.
I am a saver.
Not a spender.
I don’t buy whatever touches my fingers or pulls the eye.
Writing checks, paying bills on time.
It’s something that doesn’t come easy, but I can’t not do.
It never would occur to me to pay them late.
To push it off.
To feign ignorance or the inability to at least find out how to do it.
He calls me for answers.
I get shit done.
She calls me for emotional support, and I am even keel.
Can’t handle the pressure?
It’s okay, I can figure it out.
Though I don’t know what to do, I can tell you how to do it.
And it will be right.
It will take the pressure off.
Nearly 25 times I called those numbers.
I got the answers.
She tried to counsel me.
To tell me what to do.
Who the Hell does she think she is?
My eyes slide from the road, out of focus.
And it’s the past I see.
The trees, the water.
And the bitterness.
It’s never what I wanted.
In some ways, it’s so much more.
In some ways, it’s so much less.
But either way it’s never what I wanted.
Punctuation and position.
Emphasis and egress.
No matter the pause or paucity thereof
The meaning is unchanged:
Through it all, though not as hard as some.
Through bankruptcies, moral and monetary,
Somewhere along the way, I got better for it.
And as the days string on I have to believe that come what may,
Along the way I’ll get better for it.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
If given the choice, no matter the consequences I would choose just the same.
And those, my decisions broke me.
And I am left with nothing.
Nothing except direction.
And that is always me.
Direction and no will
And no other way.