Point Me to the Button

"Do over!" demands a kid at recess
when the ball goes out of bounds, and
(almost always) it's acceptable. No upturned
noses as if that would never happen to a person
who is Good. "Restart" rectifies a randy software
update causing problems and in seconds,
it would seem, the glitch is fixed. "But that's not
fair," said no one, ever. And erasers are to pencils
what solutions are to problems that we face. Gone,
not just whited out to cover up the mess, but gone,
gone, as if it never was.and not a word of criticism
will be voiced. A balance sheet is in the red
and then with one deposit, the ink is back to black
and everybody's smiling once again. Reversals of
fortune forgotten and forgiven. Life is good.
History, edited to a new reality. Rewritten.
Second draft. Tweaking things to make the fit
a little better, lines of something tailored taken
in. I want a do over. a restart. I want the dress
let out to make more room for me to move
and dance. I want a big eraser to drop down
and take away the troubles of some folks I know
(including me). The debt's been paid;
we're heaven-bound, but here. Life here.
The only way to change things...
is to change things. Shake it up. Step out.
Different isn't always better, but if status quos
exhaust and drain, perhaps it's time for
something radical, you know? Point me to
the button. Now...push.


(c) Ellen Gillette, 2014