Karma
Walking town College Road, I thought I probably should have said something kinder. Years ago I’d read where a man asks:
How come, no matter how long since I’ve seen the family or how much distance I put between us, they can always push my buttons?
The answer: Because they installed them.
*
At the Fair Green, I was hit by a dizzy spasm and had to lean against a wall. Two women passing gave me a wide berth, one said, “Elephants, and it’s not eleven yet.”
Sweat cascaded down my face. A hand touched my shoulder. I felt so bad I hoped I was being mugged. A voice, “You’re in some distress, my friend.”
That distinctive tone. It was Padraig, the head wino. He took my arm, said, “There’s a bench here, far from the madding crowd.”
Led me down. I thought, if my mother’s watching, as she
