Bosses by the Reservoir

Find a moment of comfort
And start writing, right away,
Before the comfort fades. Wait.

Think of a worthy topic.
That’s either impossible,
Since no three humans agree,

Or too easy—everything
Is worthy, the war, the breeze,
The privileged picnickers

Escaping the summer heat
By the reservoir, knowing
Themselves lucky to be here

Though they’ll grow a little wild
If you suggest that others
Might have been more deserving.

That’s it, isn’t it. Fortune
Feels worth gratitude, boasting,
But competition recoils

At admitting that unearned
Could be synonymous with
Being undeserving, too.

Let us be lucky. Let us
Revel in our gratitude
For good fortune, but never

Ask us to confess we’re less
Deserving. And that’s correct.
That’s not hypocritical.

Good fortune’s always lucky
Given all are equally
Undeserving / deserving,

Except for maybe the rare
Pitied or wildly admired
Who can be more credited.

Meanwhile, aren’t we fortunate,
Deserving of this picnic,
This food, these trucks, boats, beers,

And don’t we know it, even
As we contemplate the end
Of creature comforts, knowing

It’s back to work tomorrow
Where none of us are bosses.
Now there’s another topic.