treasuring the knowledge that
i could stand
in the centre of town
screaming my name a hundred times
and still, they wouldn't know who I am.
iam drawn to realigning stubborn heads to ask
"don't i look cool in this hat," and
"isn't tomn cruise cuter than liam neeson?"
rather than who's the better actor, and
will it last?
how can you reconcile all your
ideas, beliefs, and savoured truths
turned ontheirheads and
ripped from bleeding fingers?
so i stand holding the frayed ends of
my forgotten life-long tapestry of
misplaced locations and
forgotten identities and
the ever-receding grasp on reality
and to think i always used to say,
"I'll always be stuck here."
i've traded trailer parks for tv tax.
©1999 m. hughes
