These things are mine.

the act of rising at seven a.m.,
that is not mine.

the ritual of sitting behind a desk
obeying computer-issued commands -
that, likewise is not mine.

this habit of transporting myself
from one meaningless location
to another
in a hot metal box

while following
dictates issued years ago
by an unseen
all-impotent
all-powerful ruler -
this is certainly not mine.

this combing my hair
this empty cardboard food
this life
this house
these clothes
they sure as hell
are not mine.

what's mine
is the hole in my backyard
and the shovel I dug it with.

what's mine
is the power to choose

when

how

if.

These things are mine
and
as long as I claim them

I
am mine
as well.

04/10/2007

Posted on 04/11/2007
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