10/31

Sonnets From Other Lives: Linda                                                                                                                        

What ever happens happens , she would say;

then wind herself up tighter than a tick.

Her inner child was totally Type A,

but then she had this nifty little trick

where she could fake a perfect Buddhist disconnect

from the myriad of stresses in her life,

as if some secret switchboard could select

which face would be appropriate & right.

Her honeyed voice would purr over the phone

as she soothed the staff with reassurances,

while below the desk her restless leg syndrome,

belied her cool reserve with its own dances.

She could always keep her cool as others panicked.

Was it moral courage or just Xanax?