Arlene Corwin Poetry

They almost always start the conversation

With “How are you?”

You say “Fine”.

It is the norm.

Time-honored, automatic, form expected.

Yet, you reach an age

Where you no longer fit the norm accepted,

And you hesitate,

Waiting just a little bit

‘fore voicing back.

Unpredictable tomorrow:

Routine ailments, triumphs, sorrow;

Unpredictable around-the-clock.

Is it wrong to linger?

Wait to answer?

I think not.

To blur convention, slur cliché,

You spur [real] candor

For the day.

When they ask you how you are,

Think of instability

And take a second to reply.

^{How Are You: The Unpredictability 8.9.2017}

^{Circling Round Reality; Definitely Didactic;}

^{Arlene Corwin}