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
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?