I never knew being a rainbow was a gift. The ability to reach between the pot of gold and the pot of coal on the other end and be the differential display, is not a curse. To appreciate the ground shaking, eardrum shattering top fuel funny car launch, as well as the serenity of a lake as yet undisturbed by the fish still sleeping, is an invaluable tool for living. And there is no sweeter taste than the taste of a warm salty pretzel on the foggy morning ferry to Ellis Island. That is why I get the hard cases. The safes that simply won't open. This is where patience lies. Patience lies in the tadpole that doesn't understand its' new legs. And in the astronaut that swings from the communication satellite but can't seem to get the connection to work. Every one is willing to do the work. Finding the right setting to start with is the hard part. Prybars and torches don't work like they used to. You have to walk. Slowly. Listen for the sub- rhythms in the squall. Take your case as it comes to you. Let things be for a while. As long as it takes. Know that there will be times you bounce off the sun and times you will threaten satan with depression. And times you will hear the air exchange when the safe breathes. Sure. I've lost a couple of cases. I don't wear them as scars. I wear them as reminders of what if. Reminders of how frail life is. That the woman in the dirty clothes and the buggy is the same as the C.E.O. you never see. God knows that I'd trade my early morning coffee for a late night cognac. If it were that easy. And he knows that sometimes spreading the word takes four letters, not three. This is why I exist. To spread my arms as far wide as I can and reach for that short static charge between my fingertips and someone elses'. To be a conductor of life. This is where I do my best work. In the middle.