Sunday, March 05, 2017


Sex, Love, or Both at Once

         —graffiti found in Amsterdam

How can I
make the
best of a
bad situation?
Remember that
the ones that seem
bad aren’t always so?
Anyway, a lot has happened.
Everyone went to bed, for example,
and forgot all about me.  And that
nightmare (this one very much reality)
of the jealous cellphone ringing incessantly
that I can’t help but listen to; voice messages
I obviously shouldn’t be listening to.  But I’m
the crazy one.  I’m the bad boy.  Always have
been (well, ever since a senior in high school
when I did a complete about-face).  What did
I do about it then?  Head straight in the other
direction.  Drive for miles like I’m heading to
California to realize my dreams.  Years later,
after I thought I had realized them, I head straight
away to the stress (home).  Well, I am home.  Or
at least I always believed myself to be in a home.
Somehow, I slept a little bit.  This part never had
a hint of danger before.   But now?  Now, I’m a
“chickenshit”?  Maybe so, but not in the way in
which it is pelted at me.  The irony keeps ringing
in my head and I spin around for years wondering
when the vertigo will ever go away; if I'll ever figure
out the firmness of reality or the moist breath of honesty. 
Such things that never existed (or perhaps I was born into
the wrong era).  Or I skipped the class on chickenshit (which
would, of course, have to be during or after my senior year in
high school).  Was I something different before?  Was it better? 

I feel as if I’ve been split from
my toes all the way up to my head in an extra large
cheese grater.  Silly, silly, heart that acts like rubber;
takes forever to damage, even just a little bit.  But a little bit
is all it takes.  Now that’s complete erasure, I think.
Which me do you think was better?

  silly rendition of human behavior...
                         —Marlon Brando on the Dick Cavett show,
                            shortly after he refused his Academy Award
                  for The Godfather