Sometimes when I am in the past,
I can see the things that were meant to be.
A shrewd and subtle foreboding persists there, collecting dust.
We all played our parts in it,
made sacrifices and surrendered endlessly to it.
Greedy for attention and simple recognition of
how special we really were.
Everyone watching and waiting then,
learning how to survive.
Slaves to ambition,
slinging drinks and talking shit.
We were deep in hope then,
tremendously alive.

I never did fit it quite right

Rest easy old friend, when you need to find me
I’ll be in solace tucked, quietly away.
Sidelines, garden sheds, corners in the shade.
A place where the noise can’t touch
in the light of day.

I never did fit in quite right,
awkward and aloof.
My mind, simple and demanding
collecting stories and sorting truths.
I have always been an apt pupil
at ease in solitude.
The translation of this has long been mocked
and called by many names:
Lack of confidence,
severe shyness,
a consequential guilt.
and my favorite mishap, shame.
I call it self-possessed
by my own name.

Rest easy old friend,
for time has surely shown,
I will be here in the end
just as I have always been.
Embedded in a quiet
of the mind
I call home.
I never did fit in quite right
and you are not alone.