so it goes
since the diagnosis
most mornings I still
wake to not-smoke
lingering in the air
just beyond my nose
& the tremble in my
arm rising from a ripple
to slow undulations
until the coffee kicks in
somewhere mid-shower
& if not the shower
then mid-commute,
not bad enough for
drugs or to interrupt
my daily doings (no shaky
spoons or zipper grips
for me, no sir!) but
annoying enough to
piss me off when trying
to steady a book or jot
a note & you might say
that's what ebooks &
voice notes are for
but why should Apple
or Amazon need to know
how I figure out what
I think before I do—
the only predictions
I want now are from
doctors & tarot cards
& both have a fifty-
fifty chance of being
true, so at least there's
room for hope which is
better than my keyboard
with its hop & hoo
which I won't even do
when Parkinson's arrives
full-blown on some
Tuesday afternoon