Drop by Drop

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  The faucet dripped continuously, drop by drop. A cascade of tiny pellets of water running, running, running. I turned the handle tighter and tighter, to no avail. The mechanicas of the faucet did not, would not correspond to the simplicity of the dripping water.

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   Zen harmony in the repitition or insistent psychotic torture? I never could decide. I always thought it better to tune it out into the background like the static that persists between radio stations.  For the most part it was an unmendable situation, so so I didn't mend it, I adapted myself.

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