I try on crazy, the way I sometimes get out the jump rope, and see if all those muscles still work. The unemployed, unexploited, fallow nature of my once fertile insanity saddens me in an odd way. Today is a place I stand in stiff comfort, though it has taken concerted effort to get here. There are days I slip from reality, the way I can slip off a chair. I no longer allow myself to lounge on the floor. Pride is not so much the issue as hygiene. Crazy is bad for my health. I gave it up like cigarettes or romance novels; I don’t have enough time or insurance for these dalliances, though I do remember them all with fondness.
Allow yourself a favorite spoon.
Face and Ass
“It is hard to save your face
and save your ass at the same time.”
What I haven’t tried
in an attempt to live my life as a showman
spotlight front and center.
What I wouldn’t sacrifice to keep
peace and image intact,
but in the end it was just that,
my end, that saved me from
a life chasing prevention of defacement.
I can’t live with the posture of an ostrich
it leaves so much at risk.
Hiding my face won’t protect it
no matter how much I wish it would.
I have to put my butt in a seat,
a seat up front where folks get to know my face.
I have to try my best yet still make mistakes
and let people know my ass as well.
Being a part of AA saves my behind,
once that is cosseted
my face might just get its day in the sun.