Aftershock

You can talk pretty,

says self to self,

but the concussive shock remains:

self-doubt,

the cloud you now travel in,

dense fog
a clumsy cushion

between action and intention,

elusive fuzz behind the eyes,

silent noise between the ears,

buffering (buffering what?),

blurring the focus . . .

long-muted thoughts sloshing this way and that,

making you tilt from one foot to the other,

weak,

wobbly,

not quite good enough,

never again good enough,

not even remotely approaching

"enough,"

because (I forgot) --

What is "enough?"