Why Sweat the Small Stuff

A Poem by Donal Mahoney

My wife told the mailman
she plans to leave me

and my boss said Friday
I’ve been laid off.

My doctor says
I need four stents

even though
I’m not that old.

My son hates our nation
and plans to join ISIS

and my daughter says
she’s three months pregnant.

Last night I told my story
to a drunk at the corner tavern.

He used to be a preacher
and now can’t find a job.

He says I shouldn’t worry
about life’s ups and downs

because if, like him, I’m saved,
why sweat the small stuff.

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