Fine

comments 10
Poetry

I’m slowly losing track of who I was.
The other day it hit me:
somewhere there’s a body running
around with my name on it,
leading a committee probably or picking
fruit from a scissor lift or counting
inventory on aisle 5.  Giving
directions to strangers from
the street corners of cities
whose names won’t mean anything to
you or I, or anyone living for that matter.
Just laddy-dah, hands in his
pockets, whistlin’ away.
Friends with everyone.
Oblivious.
Waving like a rube at every Tom, Dick, and Harriet.
I should probably check in
and see how he’s making out,
but the thing is…
I mentioned this to Hafiz,
and he just snorted and said
you know, you really, really can go for
five minutes without checking
in on yourself.  I promise you.

Well if you put it like that, I said.
Fine.

10 Comments

    • Thanks for sharing that, Line! I am very glad to have been a co-conspirator (with my muse, the Poet, of course) in producing these lines of verse, and if I had no one to share them with, well, that could lead to a more serious malady…

      Michael

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    • Muchas gracias! More and more for me this writing is a process of discovery. You start with a feeling and you never know quite where it will go. Sometimes it is sweet feeling from the writer’s perspective, but you just wonder… how is this gonna’ hold up when it gets struck by the light of day. I feel exceedingly fortunate and grateful to have struck a chord with my fellow beings, or to be the chord that has been struck by my fellow beings, or whatever you call this…

      Michael

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    • Yes… Indeed… I heard rumor once he had over ten thousand variations, but one of which would be sufficient to instruct a rock to undergo the bread-breaking act of mitosis.

      Michael

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      • I’m wondering now if a few anchovies may have appeared along with this particular snort. Seems worth the effort, doesn’t it, to stop checking in on ourselves and stay home practicing our breathing, which of course is the path toward snorting? You help me see how play is so very very good.

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        • Yes, indeed! It does seem worth the effort to stop efforting. Ha! In the approach of spring, I have been breaking through the ice of seriousness. Panic creeps in when the ice begins to crack, but the first time you fall through and realize you didn’t drown, but landed in the World Hotel’s laundry trolley which just so happened to be passing by underneath your position at just that very moment, you spring to your feet and dash down the next corridor. Burst through a set of double-doors. And into a very serious meeting. (Wrong door) (Oh no) (But wait, this isn’t serious either, is it?) (Namaste to you all.)

          (Pick someone out and tell them they’re the lucky recipient of an ecstatic poetic telegram.)

          Michael

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  1. So I suppose that body running around with your name on it, is just going on doing its thing, friends with everyone, laddy-dah, in a world of no-self. Nice post, I feel like I’m there too…

    Like

    • Yes. Running rampant through a world without strangers, every encounter a delightful surprise. It is a good feeling…

      Michael

      Like

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