This time of year the anesthetic wears off
and the nerves around your heart
fray into syncopated buzzing lights that
remind you of how the way you want to be
differs from the way you are.

The Accountant opens the book to your page
and runs a bony finger through those transactions
that spank your bottom line.
Somehow, you let “your own worst enemy”
make up the rules of engagement.

It’s like trying to answer the question:
“Have you stopped hating yourself?”
Do you deny?
Do you accept?
Do you explain?

No matter what, you are defensive,
bent nerves tic in your face,
honest answers feel like excuses, and satisfaction
exists in only the warmest fantasy,
unless you are mindless, atrocious, or dead.

It takes awhile, but you choose to be alive,
to be kind, and to embrace
both the living and the kindness.
You find gratitude
just as it finds you.