but lousy at arithmetic which yanked some rugs.
I never practiced the piano enough, and scales?
I saw no use in those, disdained the repetition.
Yesterday I played tech guru, piddling with controls,
pulling my hair about silence on the other end,
wishing I were there to fix the problem — there —
when halfway through I recognized a signal
staring right at me — and unmuted on my end.
How often do we revel in Recovery, in promises
and progress, ignoring the fact we, each of us,
have a daily reprieve contingent
on the maintenance of our spiritual condition?
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