Watching you go,
I understand my secrets,
why nobody knows who I am altogether,
why nobody could
make sense of all the parts,
why I am so stealthy, stone faced, uncatchable;
I understand how much of me now
is all about not being you,
not being my image of you
caught in the image you have of yourself
while dressing so smartly, tying your ties
in the mirror of all their eyes;

watching you go
dream dancing to “Oklahoma,”
snoozing off in your Harley Davidson chair,
jolting up, off and on, to a happy strain,
croaking out “Oh What a Beautiful Morning”
all the misery of our life,
the hood of your scars and sorrows,
the hood of their eyes,
unable to mute for a moment
your welcoming of the world;

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