Monday, February 24, 2014

poem of the day 02.24.14

portrait of the artist
as a bloated borderline alcoholic

i always think
that i look better than i do in pictures
younger and healthier
my hair is always looking decent
on the street when women look at me
i like to think, yeah, they’re onto something good
but then someone takes a picture of me
my wife or a family member or someone else
and the evidence to the contrary is overwhelming
the quasimodo hunchback
the face bloated from alcohol
the stomach like a barrel from beer and too much pizza
the hair flat and ugly blonde
the beard gone gray and white and wiry
when i see photos like these i think
christ, is this really what the rest of the world sees
when they look in my direction
i think this walking abomination can’t be me
but he is
i start making those terrible plans
kick the booze and kick the pizza
start up jogging again or log more miles on the walk to work
avoid sugar salts and fats
the problem is my memory is short
it must be all of the lost brain cells
and some days are just too long and hard
to forgo a stiff drink or three
sometimes pizza is my sole joy of the week
and i always thought that jogging was for assholes
i forgive and forget myself
allow for that vain amnesia to settle in again
i start to think
hey, i’m young and i’m healthy
i’ll bet my hair is looking pretty good too
i think i’m a golden god lost on the streets of brooklyn
and when i pass a woman in the street
when she stares a little bit too long in my direction
i think to myself
take a picture baby because it’ll last longer
just don’t send it my way, sweetheart
because my ego can drop like flies
at the blast of the flash
at the click of the shutter and snap.                                           

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