2002

Making decisions for someone else’s living -

second guessing for decades to come. 

In hindsight, it didn’t break me.

It’s broken me every day since. 

It will break me every day to come.

I may not go to heaven…

It took moving half the world away

to understand where I want to die…

someday when I answer the door

to a familiar face in blue jeans 

while old songs I’m a hummin’

I am…weary, bone-cold and tired - have been since I was in nappies

most days in the peripheral I glimpse 

some…thing hovering, silting below the surface

inertia and gravity dragging at my heels 

tugging at all and sundry downwards

still, I pulled …pull..myself onwards through shear will

and gumption, spit and duct tape on the ready to mend 

skinned knees and broken bones 

existing is a chore

a life lived tinged

with a melancholy borne 

into a third child fending 

figuring, flailing observant 

quietly backing

into the white-space warmly

then the phone rang…

I was fit to burst 

with stories I dreamt; 

calm eves of puzzling 

night sweats into coherent 

língua from the tip of my tongue 

spilling from wrists bleeding ink

nourished by black tea and biscuits 

licking melted butter from the plate

you, in the other room gaming

barely past thirty, I had dreams 

prickly pear jam

I admire those with Identity 

those who know themselves enough 

it’s a thing I never thought, found

though I searched low 

never finding the high of life

in books and inwardness

acquiring knowledge;

am I what I am or do?

and what/who am I anyway? 

am I my likes or tendencies?

when they are middling to fair 

neither here nor there

easy going…until I’m not

am I simply the science?

I cannot say, I never could 

the only sure thing I hate

- besides raspberries and bigotry -

is being told who I am or what I’m thinking