show time

I stood one brilliant autumn afternoon
at Quincy Market and watched a man
juggle a bowling ball, a tennis racquet,
and a chainsaw with the same ease as
those of us who watched drank our
lattes and ate our cannolis; I wondered
how he practiced – what was it like
the first time he revved the engine
and threw the saw into the air?

If I could go back and find him, I would
say, “I know now.” I know you don’t
intend, you just juggle. When the
phone rings and says, “You must come,”
and the menus are due, and there are
friends to call and prescriptions to fill,
followed by the long plane ride home,
you just keep juggling; it’s what life is –
and everyday is show time.

Peace,
Milton