Tell me when to stop being myself
and look into another corner
when another self
wants to get a floor up without walking.

Remind me to pull out my handheld signaling device
if I happen to pass
a warm life form on the street or in a hallway;
don't let them get too close.

I wouldn't want to look them in the face:
the people I don't care about.
I might be too embarrassed
if I really had to look.

Don't tell anyone how much I don't care
when their car car breaks down
or their grandmother dies
or they starve to death.

Don't tell them that;
I'd be mortified;
just let me pass without looking
and forget that they exist.

Remind me to stop listening
if anyone talks about anything
I haven't already heard
and confirmed that it does not scare me.

If anything scares me,
remind me that I don't have to care or get involved,
as long as I look like I've done something,
anything, that allows me to throw money around.

Don't let the quarterback son of a waterboy
ruin his old man's dream for him.
Kick him in the ass, and tell him to kick someone else's
if he ever feels sad or afraid.

And don't let them fool you,
they've got a hole dug in the ground
with your name on a rock above it,
so no one forgets you once were around.

09/03/2008

Author's Note: I use "them" as a singular pronoun because it has become one on its own. To deny this and fumble with he/she/him/hers can defeat a piece of poetry or literature in the name of grammar--and that doesn't work for me. You is both a singular and plural pronoun and so there isn't a valid precedent to adhere to. (And, yes, I just ended a sentence with a preposition. Just try and stop me!)

Posted on 09/03/2008
Copyright © 2023 Ryan Nardi