“Snakebit” by Roy N. Mason
Snakebit
Snakebit trip will be over sooner than planned
I have an existing plane reservation,
but am apprehensive to alter it even a few hours.
Though home is where I long to be.
Salt Lake City has made a schlemiel out of me.
All soups spilt, a forgotten Wordle streak,
cut knuckles on unfamiliar furniture-
a trip of torture.
Even as man of no faith I logically know
changing my flight won’t alter my future.
I’ve stumbled through enough college courses to
recall concepts of independent events and probability.
No where else in life am I superstitious.
As much as I love Otis, I don’t knock on wood.
Nor do I actively prevent mom’s back attacks,
and my favorite kind of cat is black.
My inner control freak participates in pre-flight rituals:
I bring a book to never read, just in case,
along with a mountain of snacks
I won’t be able to retrieve at 10,000 feet.
More importantly, I play Bob Dylan’s “To Ramona” each ascent.
Originally on cassette mix tape, then CD Walkman.
Over 30 years, when single or travelling with kids and a stroller.
Now, Ramona’s in a folder on my phone every journey I take back home.
Roy N. Mason strives to make each day count, he documents his experiences, observations and lessons-learned in personal essays and poetry. In his free-time, Roy can be found trying to synchronize the clocks in his kitchen. Roy has been published in The Whisky Blot, Cold Moon Journal, Fear of Monkeys, Down in the Dirt, Mad Swirl, Dissident Voice, Twenty-two Twenty-eight, and Blue Collar Review.
