Gets tiring, all the gumshoe footwork to uncover Truth everlasting.
There are stories you want to be different, but they won't rearrange -
Cause they're history, old history. The right questions no one is asking.
Too busy paying rent to spare change for friends, much less strangers.
So many things that you still want to leave all the way behind you.
Like clothes you dropped off at dry cleaners, never picked up for weeks.
Didn't pick up for months. Didn't pick up for years. Don't have a mind to.
They wait for you, those old clothes; and so the bill whose loss you seek.
That same old suit, that same old dress, that same old shirt and slacks.
The outfit you paid dearly for with your first paycheck, what you had after tax.
Clothes that dont't fit so good like you hoped they would off the rack,
Make you look like you should to others and yourself. Past time to pack.
But they were all you could afford at the time, was the best you could do.
Can you afford the real story now about how you look, now? Look out now.
You know the skinny about how you wanted to look back then. Look in, then.
What will you do with the fact of difference between the two?
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1 comment:
This poem reads like an unsettling soul searching in progress.
It's a weary feeling being caught between an old life and a new one, always in the middle looking forward and looking back, and wondering how to make the two jive. The old life and old bills abandoned at the cleaners, the new life a question taking shape if you pay the price.
How do you reconcile these uncertainties? The view from the other side of friendship would help set things to rest. But everyone has troubles of their own. Past time to get off high center and deal.
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