Today,
I’m a bottomless glass of verklempt,
Not that I really speak Yiddish,
But I get it.

My ego and I have this ongoing conversation.
Ok, debate –
Alright, argument
If you must.

My ego likes to live as if
It’s all about me, all the time.
I wax on, ridiculous,
About being the only one
Who has to
“Live in my own skin…”
As if living in my skin
Was some sort of prize
From that time
I dressed up like someone else
On “Let’s Make a Deal”.

Or, contra-wise, my ego drones on
About how small and insignificant I am,
Dons the very best “Eeyore” voice to say
“I’m just the pocket lint in yesterday’s outfit,
Double acid washed and tumbled dry”
As if being little more than nothing
Renders some sort of viable enough focus
To make up for all the ways I could be different.

(Insert appropriate scoffing noise here)

Pocket lint is no more than
An irrelevant menace,
And living in my own skin
Is surely the sad karma
For some crime I must’ve considered worthy
At some stop along the path.

But, God, (if there exists such an entity)
I’m nigh on 50, which has got to be
Halfway to Somewhere,
And I don’t believe
I’ve got any more of a clue today
Than any other day
I’ve ever been human.
Isn't it time, yet,
To figure it all out?

Today,
I am nonplussed,
An all-you-can-eat
Dish of absurd -
And that is all.

06/08/2011

Posted on 06/09/2011
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