Forget inevitability . . .
Forget the sloop you pinned your hopes on . . .
The deck is stacked but you know that . . .
And veganism? . . . OK, veganism . . .
Recall the chef you went to high school with
deboning your salmon steak
while in an antechamber
a one-nighter riffed on a Fender? . . .
You wanted so much for it to be much ado . . .
There's loneliness in your acceptance, yes? . . .
The time your Skylark wouldn't start
leaving you stranded in nowhereland
only to be dropped off at a subway stop
eyes locked on the third rail
as if onlookers refused the magic
of your harmless costume . . .
And later at the bus stop
where rehearsals got out of hand
and the day became a graphic novel
in a foreign language . . .
You knew this but continued your renderings
rubbing your hands together between your legs as if . . .
As if, what? . . . As if the director would call a rewrite? . . .
Take a moment to close read your journal
then return to the diorama of your neighborhood . . .
Again, forget inevitability . . .
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| Jan Scholz |