where the writers are Cargo Lost, Cargo Found 5 7 09 Tommi NYC
and after 049.jpg   December 30      I fill the pallet of a new
year's sobriety and, when it has been accomplished, make a
manifest and strap this pallet with the others on the flatbed of
my life.  The cargo is secure and weighty; there is ample
pressure where the rubber meets the road.  I maneuver my rig
carefully.  I feel assured as I stream with the traffic on the
byways.  The power and magnitude of my transport prompts in me
overconfidence.  I fail to realize variation in weather or road
conditions can jeopardize my journey. Eighteen wheels make for a
poor cantilever when traction is lost and top-heavy wins out. 
In losing the battle of gravity, inertia and control I realize
the past is not a weight I need to haul; all that is necessary
is the inventory.  I slip the pages into my pocket and walk the
rest of the way.  I am my only freight.    Medicate with
laughter and tears.     Can’t Walk Back    I chase my reading
list, lose my place, fall d