—YOU ASKED IF I’M SCARED, AND I SAID SO 

  

The Emperor's New Clothes

 I worry the sun’ll get constipated and one day she just won’t show up for work 

Or else I worry she’ll become an infected blister scorching everything according to Scripture and plan

God knows I worry about the moon more than is normal

Oh yeah and I worry that God is really just Oz behind the curtain laughing at how stupid I am to be waiting this long for an answer that’s unanswerable 

I worry quite a lot that I’m going to be nine forever 

I worry I’ll never find my mother even though she’s been dead for years and I know precisely where she’s buried

I also worry about the people out of my life which is also maybe not quite normal

I worry how abnormal I am and why I even give a Fuck

I really really worry that T will get elected again

I worry that I don’t like Proust or that I probably mispronounce his name when trying to act as if I’m a fan

I worry about how much I lie to myself but also how much I can’t seem to cut myself a break

I worry I wasn’t the greatest dad I could be and that maybe now it’s too late

I worry about the deer on the roadway skinny long-legged and naïve like teenagers without any obligations hoping not to be snatched

I worry we’re always going to be a racist country with nothing to talk about around the picnic table

I worry about fentanyl and how evil someone has to be to make that shit let alone sell it

I worry I’ve made 50 times more mistakes than most people

I worry I’ll never run again

I worry my friends are going to die first and I’ll have to talk about them at their funerals and there will be no possible way to do it justly and I’ll keep bawling and blowing snot into my palm instead of accurately articulating why their lives mattered so much to me

I worry I didn’t give it enough that I didn’t try harder to save it that thing I once thought was so valuable and imperative 

I worry one day that the weight of worrying will be heavier than I can carry

I worry I should be worried about other more important things

I worry I’m not thin enough or productive enough that I won’t ever hit the outlandish goals I set for myself

I hate that I worry about what unkind things people say about me behind my back and that they bother me even a little

I worry there’s a dog who needs me mewling sad-eyed and doomed in some smelly crate

I worry depression might actually be the best friend I’ll ever have

I worry about last week when I suddenly couldn’t see a thing and Dane had to help me by holding my hand and walking me sideways to the lawn and I actually ended up in a medical tent where people thought I was drunk or on drugs when I wasn’t

I worry about banned books that might never be read

I worry about churches bragging to be “un-woke” instead of welcoming the people and just saying, "Hi, how are you?"

I worry about the disappearing bees

I worry I worry I worry too much

I worry that you don’t love me like you say you do and that you don’t love me as much as I love you

I worry I’m going to live to 100 or 64 and that neither is an optimum goal

I worry someone’s going to read this and call 911

I worry somebody else is going to read this and immediately switch to Instagram 

I worry you’re missing the point entirely