I have cinched my temper
enough over the years
that I rarely yell at my kids now
but the stack of frustrations
still teeter inside me
and I have not learned to douse
them with breath or the smiling trick
that Buddhists say will fool
my rage into thinking it’s just
some intense form of joy
so it comes out eventually
as an unreasonable tirade
against inanimate objects
like ski boot buckles
or any time I bump my head
or our incompetent can opener
which is why
I almost bought
a new can opener today
but then didn’t
not quite trusting
what would happen
if it wasn’t there anymore
to make me mad
to stand in for my unrelated list
of reasons to howl.