By Nicholas Stanley

September Conversations

Each stanza’s a reflection Of the stages of vexation I go through every yearSome point in early September, just after breakfast.“Muuuuum...But what if I’m not good enough? If I’m in a lower league? If everyone is really smart and way ahead of me?[looks up from newspaper]And what if they’ve been practicing hard? If I’ve been left behind? If months away of nothing but play have dulled and slowed my mind?[sighs, folds newspaper knowingly, we’ve been here before]Also what if, once I am up to speed, I feel I’m not the right fit? If its not for me or I’m not for it? If it all goes to ...?[comforting words]Well, what if, though the work’s ok its impossible making friends? If nothing clicks and they’re a bunch of pricks? If I’m miserable every day?[gentle reassurance]Ok, so I’m good at it and we all get on well, there’s still the teachers mind. What if, though they’re the best, we cannot connect? If each lesson feels like a grind?”On and on I usually go each and every September. Worrying, fretting, getting in a state Until the ego calms down and surrendersThen why, this year, am I not worried at all? Why has it stayed at bay? ‘Cos fuck it I’m ready, I now where I’m headed, BRING ON THE SCA.