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i am not who i think i am
my limbs slowly catching root
slouching not towards Bethlehem
but towards
a numbness found only in the most
advanced cases of tribal memory
a disease inherited from
nomadic ancestors
quick of eye & tongue
but lacking in the most elementary
graces of mall hopping
watch out for the natives!
the sign said
they are not as numb as i
they have heeded the warnings
of the Surgeon General
they know that Batman
causes cancer
& that salvation is to be found
in boxes of Crackerjacks
they know that numbness is a sign of caring
but choose to ignore it
preferring
to tend their flocks of motorized camels
and weave new robes
from torn plastic sacks
i am not who i think i am
soaring over bargain basement visions
over translucent Lego cities
over anonymous phone calls
to the 911 of the heart
they say that the night time
is the right time
but with plastic bullets melting
with yesterday's dreams so boring
somehow mama i just can't find
the right key or a condom big enough
for this guitar that i'm holding
you see
it was meant to be this way
we were meant to be together
you a bloody howler &
me a parakeet jammer from
the wrong side of the tracks
watch out for the natives!
they have toothpaste testimonials
they have UN declarations
they have Bob Dylan bowing down
to a plastic baby Jesus
painted black & blue
that glows in the dark
yes
it could have been different
but then
i would have had to be
who i thought i was
wouldn't i?
and that
would have been
no fun at all
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