Larry Fagin
DOING
whatever
I feel like
doing
for the rest of my
life
would be nice.
Meanwhile,
there is a
meanwhile.
Where
is
it?
ONCE IN A WHILE I AM REMINDED by Leila Chatti
I am not at the center of anything. Seen at a distance I am hardly seen. Excruciating, how here i am, how little it means. I use my mouth to make sounds which approximate my innermost thoughts but often bungle it. I use my eyes when I need to be understood. Sometimes I tell the truth but only when I think I"ll be valued for being interesting instead of good. I marvel at what I call my life—ambulances, sparrows, clouds passing definitively by—amazed that it doesn't know it's mine at all, the minor characters don't look up, the narrative sags, and I each moment wondering if this is when the real story starts.
Comments
Post a Comment