dentistry in Cozad


i worry.
intensifying caliber of events
a grimness which rarely materializes.
like dentist appointments and doctors visits.
Or I worry far more than the actual
event warrants.
Pre-living it over and over
until it has worn an anxiety ridden
groove in my already overwhelmed gray matter.

Lanny used to play in a band
Called The Esquires
Or alternately the  Cadillac Cowboys.
They played old country music

behind chicken wire stages
on sawdust floors

Scuffling dancers swung to

“Mac the Knife”
and “yur cheatin Hart”
“Six days on the road”

In Cozad, Nebraska
Over New Years Eve
He would play his hollow body Gibson Guitar
in the shadows
harmonizing with a heavy handed drummer,

And at 2 am wind his way back home through
a hundred miles of blizzard packed interstate.

He worried about New Years Eve
364 days of the year.
It was his first thought in the mornnig and
his last at night.
It ruined his summer sunsets and fall moonrises
because he could only see the sky
through the fog of a smokey bar
on a twenty below night

Sometimes, by  happenstance
at the last moment,
The New Years Eve gig would be cancelled.

Relief would surge through him for an hour
before he began to worry about next year.

so cozad became a verb in the house.
as you can guess, its meaning was to
worry excessively about future events
not quite sure if it may or may not occur.

apply liberally.
we worry about strange pains in our teeth and our feet.
diagnosis ourselves using Webmd.
fuss about upcoming conferences
at altitudes we can not bear.
people we may or may not see
while shopping at a local
we text each other firmly
“you are cozading”
we know. but we do it any way.

It’s far too easy to travel down a well worn default path.
So I write this for you
those of you who join me,
as I pace in the waiting room
of ______________________    (fill in your choice).

it’s 3 am
my car sliding on ice
New Years Eve revelers
weave and swerve all around.

I’m up. Next


  1. so true. I can’t go into details. Mine is so bad and far advanced. Even when the dreaded doesn’t happen I start again. At least now it has a name.

      1. there have been somany it seemed
        until the one where she
        she just wasn’t in love with
        anymore and then all th
        worry about what might

        it just couldn’t bridge the chasm
        between what might or mightn’t

        emotional tips tops bottoms and those
        clipped to what might pass for
        a pacific ocean of

        Good or bad,
        that doesn’t enter the blended watercolor here
        at all
        the whirring blade
        of the 10-inch table saw in my shop
        3,500 rpm
        scant parts of an inch
        from fingers
        from face impassive

        eyes focused on carbide bit
        clawing through pine
        throwing bits of worry

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