What keeps people from asking for help?
Too often the shame of being helped. Like
my recently-divorced friend Delbert Faucks
who tries to deflect the pain of his severance
by repeating "May divorce be with you" to
co-workers and bar mates. Everyone laughs
but just to appease him. The coat of sarcasm
is durable but not warm, so no information,
not any of any value, is forthcoming. Rather,
he coaxes acquaintance out of friendship
and sleeps among the intoxicated rocks.
I take him aside. Del, Del, what are you
doing? How can I help? What do you need?
Del: "You know any women into anal beads?"