And just what exactly about life is cruel? (stream of consciousness) by Suzie Nugofsky

And just what exactly about life is cruel?

It took me seven minutes to pour the beans and grind them to the consistency of loam

And pour them into the hot water and cook them and press out the brown water and pour the fragrant liquid into the mug and take it by the handle and walk it over to the living room and hand it to you, who reclines on the couch, with a computer in your lap

Im in real pain

I walk softly on broken glass

The hips do the arthritic tango across rooms

Im hiking up stairs like theyre mountains and the kids can barely wait for carrot sticks but they sit there while twisting fingers and wiggling little butts because they see that it hurts

and they do hurt too

but the pain is in their arms and in the turning of their attentions from too much of this and too much of that and we each bite off a bit more that we can chew,

stuff it in with the replaceable spoon

that life keeps giving us because for some reason

we were meant to dine with breakable plastic and sometimes I think life is cruel for a such shoddy gift

Its the pain talking, I know that

I know life isnt a gift at all

its a series of rooms we all walk through, and eventually we leave one house and move into another and we keep this up forever because DNA is nomadic

Life is cruel when the mind is made small,

by ignoring a body

that is actually very content with the pain

the mind sometimes forgets, it doesnt need a home