Keep Calm and Carry On by Carolynn Kingyens

          "Maybe that's enlightenment enough; to know that there is no final
          resting place of the mind; no moment of smug clarity. Perhaps wisdom...
          is realizing how small I am, and unwise, and how far I have yet to go."
          — Anthony Bourdain

The saddest part of this story 

is you never see it coming—not really;

missing the divine irony 

like a widower 

missing the 5 p.m. train 

at Penn Station

for the suburban outskirts 

of Manhattan,

where a faithful glass tumbler 

filled with maple syrup-colored spirits

awaits him at the end of a Mad Men day 

in a dank house located on a formidable  

street with an empty fridge 

and a mailbox jammed with coupon flyers 

and Chinese take-out menus—

the non-stop plaintive wail of paper noise

and electronic spam 

but never a meaningful phone call;

never just a simple, meaningful phone call

from someone he once knew,

way back when, who'd recognize

his hearty laugh in a crowded room, 

back when he used to laugh.

It's no wonder Anthony Bourdain 

spiraled into despair for days

at a time after eating a bland burger 

patty and semi-thawed languid fries 

inside of a Matrix-white colored

Johnny Rockets in a deserted airport, 

encompassed by the lackluster enthusiasm 

of twenty-something staff

and the abject passivity passing 

for good food. 

Charles Bukowski describes 

the existential ache 

in his famous poem "The Crunch,"

where there is a loneliness in this world

so great that you could see it 

in the slow movement

of the hands of a clock,

or the terror of one person 

aching in one place, alone,

untouched 

unspoken to 

watering a plant. 

I, too, have felt the ache 

inside those cavernous places 

like the hollow bowl-shape

my armpit made

while reaching my hand,

palm up,

across the half-empty

California King bed

before his vacancy 

was taken over by a sweet menagerie 

of rescued pets—

curled into random balls;

curled like cinnamon buns.

I envy those who have legit fun

at Dave & Buster's, and who watch 

Dancing with the Stars

and America's Got Talent,

hanging on every nuanced word 

of Simon Cowell like some 

kind of talent prophet.

Or those people who make 

yearly pilgrimages to Disney World, 

Graceland—Las Vegas,

and the week-long, all inclusive 

Caribbean cruises, eating all you can eat 

Crème Brulé and yogurt parfaits

sprinkled with edible flower petals;

and non-alcoholic drinks

served inside hairy coconut shells,

adorned with turquoise 

and pink paper umbrellas.

And those bevy of seniors 

with the stiff salon-curled hair,

who play weekly Bingo 

and who line dance 

for charity

every Friday evening 

at their local Shriners Club.

Maybe they've found the secret

to life in their gift store wooden plaques 

hung over windows and entryways:

Live, Love, Laugh.

Life is tough my darling, but so are you.

Keep Calm and Carry On. 

Carolynn Kingyens is the author of the poetry collections Before the Big Bang Makes a Sound (2020) and Coupling (2021). Her latest, and most existential book, Lost in the Bardo, was released on Amazon in April 2026. Lost in the Bardo is also available at Magers & Quinn Booksellers, Barnes & Noble, and Indigo-Chapters. In addition to poetry, Kingyens writes essays, book & film reviews, and short fiction. She has been married to her best friend for almost 27 years, and they share two amazing children. When time permits, she loves to read, watch good documentaries, and belly laugh.