Text and Hubris

So what now? There’s a light out above the
bathroom sink and the pale face that stares
back at me from between flecks of water
smiles a grim little smile. I wonder
what answer to give. What make sense?
This morning I had an two eggs wrapped in
the doughy confines of an English muffin
with watermelon on the side.
The smiling chef, a man whose face I know
who has been there every morning for years
didn’t even bother to ask what I wanted.
He knew my breakfast by heart
as I am creature of habit, but neither he
nor I knew that tomorrow wouldn’t come.
Neither he nor I knew that time
was so desperately short and that
in the space of an hour – I would be gone.

So what now? The handle is cold and damp
and the water runs a little too fast for the drain.
A puddle begins to gather in the sink basin
and I look away from the face,
from the eyes looking for an answer.
I can tell you the meaning of a text and
I can sometimes bend words
in just the right way to say something real
but I have nothing. No answer.
I should be afraid or angry.
I should yell, scream, cry, or shout.
I should do something.
So I cup my hands, reach down, and
catch the cold water as it pours out.
In a moment the captured water fills
my hands and overflows into the basin
below. I have changed almost nothing.
The water still flows as it has before
but I am a part of it now.
Maybe, just maybe, that can be enough.