stuck with myself

i’ve had best friends that are now

just people from my past. together

we were going to become rich and

famous. we always dreamed big

dreams. doesn’t everybody until

they realize they are only rich and

famous when they are sleeping?

maybe some of them are rich now,

i don’t know. i don’t think any of

them are famous. i haven’t heard

their names mentioned for twenty

or thirty years. some of them may

even be dead now. john is, he killed

himself. i never thought the last time i

talked to him would be the last time i

ever talked to him again. i used to be

pretty reckless. some of my friends

probably think i’ve been dead for years.

it seems every year i make new

friends. we get to know each other

real well for a month or two then they

would go away and never come back.

like when i was a young boy blowing

bubbles. i’d chase them across the grass

until they would disappear into

thin air. some could say those weren’t

very good friends. i like to think they

got bored and moved on. who could

blame them for that. i get bored easy

myself. if they became movie stars i

wouldn’t know. i never go to movies.

before a movie is over i am wishing

i was somewhere else. movies are

make believe with predictable endings,

like bubbles. if they discovered

a cure for all man’s ills i wouldn’t know.

i don’t watch the news. i stopped

watching the news after the war to end

all wars. there’s been too many wars

since then. some wars never end.

most of the time i want to be at

home sleeping naked next to someone

after some good hard loving. i don’t

dream about being rich and famous

anymore, cures for cancer or war. if you

were wondering what ever happened

to the reckless one, i am a poet content

just blowing bubbles.

One thought on “stuck with myself”

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