Curly Fry Crumb

I walk in the door, fresh from a phone call
where I want to rescue a woman for rescuing,
want to give money when I’d said that was all.
I’ve not dealt with it well,
second- and third-thinking my path.
Knees hurt. Piddling little things to do,
socializing to come, anticipated, but temptation —
called birthday cake – awaits. Serenity shudders,
but holds together. On the kitchen counter
a curly fry crumb calls my name.
But I started the day right. A reading returns.
I know I cannot walk through a brick wall,
and I’ve totally accepted this fact, so I don’t try...
When I accept Step One as completely as this,
I am easily abstinent. I am free.◊
The dog ate the crumb.

 

2013-05-29_16-43-28_644Voices of Recovery (Kindle Locations 1734-1735)