Song Of My True Self

Just as I was
the stupid child, wearing
slippers out into the snow;

just as I was
the lying child, hiding
report cards and failure notices;

just as I was
the teenage fake sensitive, wanting
only to jump someone’s bones;

just as I was
the heedless young drunk, waving
a knife at the local bar;

just as I was
the swollen ego, chasing
grandeur with a pen on a stage;

just as I was
the frightened adult, scrambling,
mystified by the future.

Just as I am
now — what I am now,
with so little grip

on possibility, so much
weight dragging behind;
I lean, I loafe, I invite old words

to explain just
who I was, who I am.
They are never enough.

Just as I am now
is how I have always been — cold feet,
lies, weapons, drunkenness,

inexplicable pools
of lust, ego overriding fear;
a citizen of this place and time,

as I always
have been; like my country
I am stopped, waiting.