the fate of gurus (march eleventh)

I think that a hot, wet pillow in a stomach
I think that a fist not swallowed down
I think that one half helmet of tight red-clamp to ear-backs
and sweat-slickening neck
should be enough
to maybe take a little guess

-well maybe not to subject;
but, on that, yes, I digress

I’ve worked hard for the little things-
my sanity, my papers;
each keychain, kitchen sink, and later
maybe even the right to splay
a hypothetical “faerie-me” out to make-up takers.
I’ve earned the ring
(the right to keep it on or take it off and sing!)
but I’m standing at a high place now –
if you will: a precipice

two roads never diverge in wooded shade for me;
there’s always intersections
always honking
always scary-busy…
I always wish I’d stayed home;
with my cheesy macaroni
with my piano…
it was fine to be forgotten
it was fine to be let go
If I forgot to be a legend
well no one was to know …

so if you find yourself in my crossroads,
split off but still mildly intrigued,
please understand it’s not a hunt
not jealousy! -but static cling
consider love, attention, learning, fantasy!
who are you?
is there something you could do?
could the fate of gurus maybe end with you?

the fate of gurus (march eleventh)

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