Waxing on overcoming repetition
(Inspired by Repetition by Phil Kaye)
By Peter Witt

​

Listen to Podcast

I was bound to repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat
my mistakes over and over and over again,
like puffing incessantly on a cigarette many,
many, many times a day, even though I knew
my lungs would end up looking like the black,
black, black ones I once saw in a natural
history museum exhibit.

So to I fell in love, love, love with women
who wanted to dance and sing all night at fancy
parties, me being an introverted loner meant
all of these relationships flickered, flickered,
like dying embers in a dark forest campfire.

And then there was my obsession with brownies,
nothing perverse, not the cookie selling kind,
but rather the kind that bakers make with double,
double, chocolate so dark and velvety it gives
you a sugary, sugary high, and leaves you wanting,
craving, craving, craving more sometimes
with milk, whole milk, whole milk, not the two percent,
2%, watered down kind.

What to do, do, do about my repeating, repeating,
repeating, over and over and over again, I've seen
doctors, more doctors, and specialized specialists
who called me obsessed, compulsive, repeating
the labeling, labeling, over and over again,
until I believed them, gave up cigarettes, met
a women who liked intense, intense, conversations
in the dark corners of romantic restaurants, bars,
and park benches, and finally, at last, for good,
gave up brownies, never the pre-girl scout kind,
and started eating fresh vegetables of every
shape and size, losing weight, getting healthier,
and healthier, and healthier, so healthy I could
give up, up, up doctors of every kind, and
enjoy my life, my now wife, and 2% milk,
and similar ilk, ilk, ilk.