Meditation on Apologies and Ganesh

I have learned to apologize in five ways.

               First, to say "I'm sorry I hurt you,"

and move on. taillights. this is not an apology

it is an excuse to exit stage left. it is what absentee fathers

say to women as theirs shadows back out of doorways.

Ganesh said to me: I will sit on your chest tonight

and squeeze and squeeze.

               Second, to say "I am sorry I met you sorry

I fell in love with you sorry I went bowling with you. . ." this is

not an apology. it is regret. a dash of anger like bad salt.

a slander of the nudity of giving, the bottomless heart which gardens this earth.

Ganesh said: since you do not value your hands,

let me take them back.

               Third, to say, "I am sorry my way of being acting

speaking standing hurts you." this is not an apology. it is the

thief disguising theft by insinuating against the robbed.

it is forgetting how electricity flows.

and Ganesh: I will plant you squarely in the way of everything.

               Fourth, you will say, "I am sorry--But. . ."

this is not an apology. it is a sucker punch. a handshake of

needles. a kiss that draws blood.

Ganesh whispers to you: say--if like trading so much, I have something better to trade with you.

               Fifth, apologize. the silence that dropped from

three words to crush my heart into a sweet, sweet wine.

See? Ganesh said, it is not so bad, riding on the back of this mouse.

from here, you can get to where you are really going.

from here, you can go home.