Juggling Chain Saws in Oven Mitts

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Welcome to Advanced Decision-Making 101;

today’s lesson: risk assessment with extra butter.

I arrive wearing oven mitts the size of overconfidence,

quilted optimism stitched in red,

and three politely snarling chain saws

revving like caffeinated lawn gnomes.

“Grip is essential,” the textbook whispers.

“Control the variables,” says the chart.

Meanwhile my mitts clap together like applauding marshmallows,

and the saws hum a hymn called Consequences in D Minor.

Centrifugal force, class,

is the reason your eyebrows should file a travel itinerary.

Momentum, you’ll recall,

is just enthusiasm with a physics degree.

I toss the first. It arcs beautifully,

a silver dolphin of poor planning.

The second follows, demonstrating rotational symmetry

and rotational panic.

The third?

Ah.

The third explains humility.

Here’s what we’ve learned:

Protection is not the same as preparation.

Padding is not proficiency.

And confidence, while cozy, is not a safety feature.

I bow—carefully—

extinguish the engines of ambition,

and write on the board in tidy chalk:

Start with oranges.

Class dismissed.

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This poem is the fourteenth line from one of my earlier poems, that poem was made up of incomplete sentences, that somehow made great titles.

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Christopher Reilley Poems