that glass cross atop the mirror? you ask.
there’s a story . . . given me by a glass
artisan at a meeting, convention
or rally, call it what you will, of folks
prone to meetings if you take my meaning.
I recall only his bright eyes and genuine
disposition, his eagerness toward earnest
and devotion to the steps — his gift an
act of the twelfth as I lingered somewhere
near the fifth, soul as hollow as hungover
eyes . . . my road to sobriety one of
potholes and suffering infrastructure . . .
the cross is to remind of higher powers;
mirror to remind: lonely is not alone.
David M Pitchford
2 September 2012