Sometimes when I speak
the words come into the world easily
with clarity
Other times they hit the air in a rush like Jetsam
on a rushing river
and Yet again these statements seem to hit the atmosphere
like a meteor from Pluto
I find as I get older that it becomes more difficult to self censor
It could be a lack of energy
a weird exhaustion
or maybe I no longer care
I don’t think it maters
I’m just a squatter
on this rock
Strange as it maybe I find that I crave silence now more than ever
It was a learned thing
silence
My words out of place
out of step
drew narrowed eyed glances
side wise stares
there was something strange there in those others’ gazes
as if they beheld something alien or irritating
It’s me, I tell myself
my eyes my senses that are the foler
The trickster
Still I try to conform
to simple social norms
Over the years I have gotten better at it
Until
I relax
I speak
The words make sense to me
But for the listener, for the outside there is a shock
They seem as it they had been struck
by a board
the sudden realization
That the label really belongs where it has been stuck
That I am a giggler
I snuck through
camouflaged
But now with age
That thing that caused me ebaressment
that label of shame
now produces cosmic hilarity
I don’t know,
I guess you had to be there
Fantastic!! Love this.
I love this!! Wow do I miss you. Fantastic poem.