Superstition(s) stubbornly linger
impossible to shrug off
(cue Atlas) courtesy pointer finger
regarding Friday the thirteenth bringer
o' ire rush ill luck cue fountainhead gargoyle
nsync with ominous grateful dead singer

uneasiness drilled into collective
conscience since time immemorial
equally puzzling me as harbinger
of spilt salt tossed over left shoulder,
into the face of Devil who lurks
snapping unsuspecting bystander
fast as ginger.

Secular humanists, viz case in point
yours truly, who finds himself
flexing falange joint
as iterated above unable to pinpoint
despite persistent atheistic viewpoint
even when rash of unfortunate events,
whereby sizable tin of yard did anoint
me noggin than hours later dog

canine sank teeth into flesh to reanoint
(handily) these events eyepoint
out occurred 1300 hour August 13th
two thousand nineteen
funeral for William Zison
(late father in law) whose spirit
supposedly, securely, satisfactorily...
passed barred underworld checkpoint.

One (or I), could pick an arbitrary past
month day combination cast
amidst travails, yet fast
as quirky forgotten
mishaps occurred, I long last

forgot unpleasant mishaps vast
among pooled countless
circumstances that did blast
temporary woe out classed
courtesy aforementioned painful
****** injuries leaving me aghast.

Generally (figurative) speaking
I tend to shrug off (think Atlas)
unexpected misfortune that did bring
momentary such as abby (a bee)
thee wife with painful sting
generating speculation how life fared
if assertiveness prevailed,
when ding a ling

interpersonal opportunity doth ring
regretting forsaking MaryAnne Sage,
whose strengths regarding
compatibility (she shared a string
of characteristics) regarding same birthdate
and square thumbs as
one garden variety generic
NON GMO and gluten free Joe King.