April 30th poem

Saturday, April 30, 2011

I Woke Up Feeling Like the Bionic Woman Doll, and Not in a Good Way

Now that you are finally, in reality, hopefully in the actual middle
of your life, are you completely different?  The Queen
of Sandalwood?  The Hobo of Denmark?  The Count
of My Toes?  Does your first mind tell you that capability
is a water table we can all tap into?  That if you're sufficiently
interested you can do anything except force external cash
prizes?  There are certain symptoms of symbolic rebirth:
a singing right ear, a stutter, waking with a feeling
like a sock to the jaw.  Thinking fire made of blood
but meaning blood made of fire.  Some nights the only
comfort is in tube socks, the contemplation of a ballroom dance
by a vivacious cross-eyed Australian, and the hush that comes
when the music of the spheres is set to "off."  This is how
you got into this predicament in the first place: Walking around
thinking "only child syndrome" and waiting for your brother to call.

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