Pegijas · Lī · interjers

Things I Can Take, Things I Can't

I can take a punch. Maybe not two punches or three. But one, to the belly or the face. I can take a punch.
And a snub. I've been snubbed a lot, so I know that I can take a snub. Walk past me here. Don't invite me there. I can take it.
I can take extreme heat and extreme cold. The heat was overwhelming in Thailand and in parts of Lebanon and Israel. I climbed the Rock of Masada in a hundred degrees and that was no fun. But I could take it. And the cold, too, in Vermont and New Hampshire, those winters were the gas froze in the the tank.
And a slur. I can take a slur. Call me kike, Hebe, Jew-boy. I can take that, too, though I'd probably want to find out if you can take a punch.
Gossips. I can take that, as well. I don't like it, but I can live with it. And the company of fakes and tyrants and amiable acommodators - for a brief periods. I can take it.
Disorder. It's difficult for a Virgo. But I can take it. And shocks. I can take shocks. And I can take a joke.
And ingratitude; I kind of expect it. And cheapness and pettiness. Even rejection. I can take that. And an unlucky streak. Treachery, if you must. It gets me down, but I can take it.
Things I can't take: your pain, the children's pain, the verdict of your glance.