Dissipation

Maybe it's the hurricanes that blow up the coast and fizzle into the streets, or the politicians that blow into town and fizzle into various demographics, or maybe it's just my own level of distractedness. . .but something has me thinking a lot about dissipation lately. As in, "I'm dissipated." Like I'm spread too thin. Like I'm thinking of too many things at once. Like I'm scattered in mind and tongue alike. Why are all these plates spinning around my head? Why not let a few drop to the floor and crash? I didn't promise anyone I'd keep them all spinning, did I? Nope. But now that they're all up there zinging. . .some wobbling. . .I've become a slave to them. They ain't worth it. Can't eat off spinning plates. Can't even use them for skeet shooting. However, they probably are worth something and instead of letting them explode all around me, I should exert enough energy to grab and stack them like that guy used to do on the Ed Sullivan show. The trick will be to sell them once I've got 'em stacked up.