Honest assessment of self, gleaned from a poem written at the Dew Drop Inn. |
| I am 52, a deck of cards. I am never really right in the noggin, nor handed, nor politically aligned although for one of them I lied to suit the stanza and yes I am a liar, saving feelings or to sidestep baby showers, birthday parties, sometimes work or when my friends or family ask how I am doing and I am doing puzzles, painting by the numbers a stick of glue to hold collages to their promises to piece together things in pleasant compositions and I compose fool poetry that usually goes dark (I've got those daddy issues, everyone can see it) and I am sorry so often I become the big apology and I am sorry here I go again I need another day another pill, another pipeful, prompt, a master plan or maybe just another spring to turn inside my soul. note ▶︎ |