these then the circumstances, that circumscribe my essentials
the surround-sound orb walls of choices made and yet-to-be-made delimiting me, making me wary of the unforeseen, more circumspect of what I will someday have chosen
recall standing on the now crushed, destroyed subway platform of the Cortlandt Street Station, debating
take this job or that
took the one but a crow mile fly away (and not the one that didn't survive)
come that day, me, audience observer then,, not one of the death undefying unwilling circus performers, and heroes,
when I pass the covered up burial sight, the many nearby and forever crinkly crape draped firehouses, or open the drawer where I have saved the tidbits of that particular day's memories walk home,
a covenant reaffirmed, a circumcision of the soul renewed
a circumcision upon the soul, the renewed cut, sheds, allows some light into the circularity of life