The Wrong Word

It’s kinda funny…
how you practice and proceed
for a thing
like a meeting
or an opportunity
or date for a really long time
like years
– well, maybe not years,
but you get where I’m going with this –
and you plot and plan
and scheme your way
all for a singular chance,
working and hoping and doing all the things
to make it happen
because it’s an important thing.
It’s THE important thing,

It’s the thing
that maybe all the other things hinge upon
(no big deal, though)
and you’re nervous as it comes up
because, well,
no pressure,
but all of the above.
You’ve done the work, though,
and you’re ready
dear god, you hope you’re ready
and the day comes up.

The clock strikes.
The interview
the meeting
or opportunity
or party
or date yes of course it’s a date
it’s always a date isn’t it
comes up
and everything’s lined up perfectly
for you to do what you have to do
and swish the basket
or hit the target
or whatever appropriate sport language
fits the metaphor
but you choke
because, hilariously,
you weren’t prepared.

You didn’t know what you were doing
and maybe you never will
and who knows
when another opportunity
will occur
because this one
this so very important opportunity
took so very long
and you don’t know if you have it in you
to wait for another
not that you know what to do
when it comes along
if it comes along, god help you
even though she never believed in you,
anyway.

Pretty funny, huh?

Wait – maybe that’s not the best word.
Maybe funny doesn’t cover it exactly.
Possibly, I’ve been thinking of a different word
all this time.

About Jonathan Berger

I used to write quite a bit more.
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