Life is like water
spilled on the ground
which you can never gather up again.
You can cry over spilled milk,
but you can’t pick up
those spilled tears
and shove them back into your eyes
like a child might stuff candy
into his mouth quickly
without anyone seeing him.
Life is spills.
You can always spill your heart out
or your guts,
but you wouldn’t want to see
your bloody heart or guts
and wouldn’t
unless they draw and quarter you.
That would give you the shpilkes,
cause you to take a spill
or spill over
and spill the beans
about why we live in a world
where you can spill so much
and choose whether to cry about it.
Originally accepted by SABR magazine