Waiting for My Last Course in Turbulence … But Aren’t We All?

When I handed Dean Young my healthy stack of his poetry collections waiting anxiously for his signature ink marks, he asked me simply: Why the hell are you buying all of my books? Are you crazy? My answer was a shrug and a giggly smirk … but I wanted to tell him (as cheesy as this may sound) that he had the ability to lessen my turbulence … that his genius of language and quirky observations were often exactly precisely what it was I needed to calm or keep at bay the flames of my mind and soul.

But I didn’t say this. Like I said I only responded with a shrug and a giggly smirk which coincidentally didn’t convey diddly to this word-and-image-smith … but I guess my feelings on this and many many other things are superfluous and often should remain in silence … and in my head. I fear I have been sharing too much of myself lately … there are indeed thoughts that should remain cubbied inside of my frontal lobe … and not everyone needs to know my fears or my deep desires. These things should be saved for my poetry … not that I have been able to write in weeks.

Then some guy said I looked like the Mona Lisa … and that was strange enough to at least begin a poem … but I am stiffled — ironically by words. I think all he saw through his seeming drugged haze was the knowing shape of my violent smirk.

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Published in: on April 22, 2007 at 6:34 pm  Leave a Comment  

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