This space is too tiny for the sounds
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Squealing, these speakers too tiny for justice.
Even the cats have given up on wakefulness.
If everyone's got to be something . . .
(I do not want to "get it on". No. Thank you.)
. . . don't you have to be something already?
A fire truck roars past and I am reminded
Rudely, interrupting the roaring in my head:
Real people have real problems.
Leaning back in the dark I peel away layers
From my self my was my is my would have been
My never will be in anything but this room.
Layers float off, too large for this soul
I shrivel into a homunculus, too large for my heart.
There is no one left to wave my selves goodbye.
Everything begins with lucid indifference.
Check out my blog -- Better Living through Pedagogy -- at www.mkpotter.com