They’ll Understand

It doesn’t have portent you can read into 
a saga of disaffection’s malicious design - 
but then the omen was clear enough, the 
flippancy paying small mind to it gives an 
honest dividend, costing a ‘sang-froid’ or 
two more than usual loss of aplomb - yet 
you knew it; so quit a self-righteous ‘why 
me?’ liturgy in appraisal of what wasn’t 

It wasn’t a disaster - as it could well have 
been, and we reached the destination we
were seeking - the loss of dignity is small 
beer compared to back blocks rescue by 
tow truck driver irreverence citing stupid 
not as affectation but secured income 

The disaster was knowing what needed 
fixing but presumptively making plans to 
not implement the fixing right away; that 
is like saying we’re sort of off the pace a 
bit but nothing dramatic, so we won’t hit 
the panic button, or make a fuss - she’ll 

Be right mate. Well today it wasn’t, tho’ 
lucky the fuel feed didn’t fail completely 
we limped where others strode, crept a 
mile to reach this saviour’s embrace in 
unostentatious country garaging - and 
maybe - they’ll understand … 

© 6 June 2014, I. D. Carswell