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the man i never was
is an old stranger,
wrinkled and heavy-set
alcoholic who
smoked since the day of his birth,
flabby
bald-headed
unappreciated by those who
created him,
he sits in a windowless tankard
of ale and never breathes,
only opens his mouth
to suck in more beer

the man i never was
has the brain of an ostrich
he thinks he can fly
without wings
and buries his head in the sand
when the sun comes out

the man i never was
is uneducated
and belligerent
ignorant of time’s daunting march
across the battlefield of life

but he is loyal to himself
and the few
whom he loves
and the few
who love him

while i, faithless impersonator
of myself,
tuck my head between my legs
and run when
the sex police come for my heart

the man i never was
is a foul-mouthed,
bearded,
unholy bastard
who wreaks of fat
and shit
and has crumbs of encrusted food
from last night’s meal
festering
on his gut

but the man i never was
is a better man
than i am

because the roots of his tree
are planted firmly in the ground
after all these years

and i am just a boy
who has already
thrown my wood
onto the fire.




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