Life's Vortex

I stood behind the McDonald’s counter, watching my friend pull her hand out of the bucket of pickles.

“It stings,” she complained.

She turned her arm over to revel, yet again

Five, always five, serrated marks striping her wrist.

I sat in the locker room watching another friend run her hand over her stomach.

“Why am I so fat?” she complained.

She turned sideways to revel her concave stomach. She ate

One, only one, apple for lunch every day.

I gripped the phone tighter as the story spilled out

“He’s dead,” she complained.

Then went on to revel that he shot himself on her doorstep.

Too, too much pain.

Now I watch as my kids grow, no longer children.

“Why?” they complain.

Then they turn to revel fleeting innocence.

None, I pray, none will be caught in life’s vortex.