I breakfasted on anger years ago.
I took in news with coffee, always struck
by crazy folks, surreal reports, a show
of mob-bemused insanity. I’d buck
at paragraphs that can’t be proven, know
my mind and no one else’s, have no truck
with ads or slogans. Ranting I would blow
so hard, my collie thought his name was Fuck.

But that was then. By now I have endured
the dog’s demise, erosive years. Today
no tantrums or conniptions can be heard
each morning as I stretch and plan the way
I’ll take my minutes. Now my steady word,
repeated like a mantra, is: “Okay…”