A Sean Elias Audio Interpretation:

Yesterday, after yet another deadline missed, I thought of This:

Though not submitted “by precisely seven p.m.” – as required by the rules –

it was, in fact, delivered at Seven-ish.

And then I wondered whether I – and the world too – have long been Remiss,

in failing to acknowledge how much I – and we –  owe to Ish.

If you can’t be the best in your field, in your time, or even be on time, at least be close; be Ish –

make that your goal, your niche, your Wish.

In this competitive world, where non-winners are too often labeled losers, it’s Nice,

when something less than best can Suffice;

I cheer whenever an Olympic champion, unable to capture gold –

any average Joe, Pierre, Juan, Gretchen, or Hans –

comes home a hero, proudly wearing silver or Bronze.

God bless those of us who were never the best but had the Stuff –

to be, well… just good Enough.

It’s hard, is it not, to see ourselves as others Do?

I, for example, was always a wonderfully attentive lover, as many along the way would testify acknowledge as being True.

I never once had cause to ask, “Was I your Best?

Or, “Are you satisfied, my Dearest?”

For I suspected that even if not completely satisfactory as I might have aspired or Wished,

I was surely – between the sheets – sexually speaking, Satisfactory… ish.

But I must confess how deeply it pained me when a lover,

seemingly spent, whispered moistly and softly in my ear, “I am Satisfied… ish.”

There should be a marker somewhere, maybe even a monument, made of marble, to honor the contributions of Ish;

something like the Washington Monument would do.

Well, maybe not that big, and, maybe, not that monumental but surely, you know, well…

Washington Monument-ish.