True Story

Six of one, half a dozen of another—balanced—
a perfect equation… a metaphor with grace.
Half a dozen is something I get from the store.
Half a dozen bananas, half a dozen candy bars,
Six is a sensible number, too… everyone knows
six potatoes, six rolls of toilet paper.

But my mother said "six of one, ten of another,"
invariably, unfailingly—and she believed it.
I often rattled this non sequitur around my head
in the supermarket, the gas line, the shower.
Am I crazy? What exactly did she mean?
Is it some kind of quantum opposition?

As my life took curves along the highway,
it occurred to me when I was maybe 40,
The sudden truth, the explanation.
Mother simply never knew the difference—
six of one is half a dozen of another.
And my brain isn’t as unbalanced as I thought.