How fucked I think I am can be measured on various scales in direct contrast to how fucked I really am.
If one compares how fucked I think I am to how fucked I really am on a graph and measures their distance one will see that how fucked I think I am moves as slowly as Aesop’s tortoise, and unlike the moralistic story, the tortoise does not win, not this time. How fucked I really am is the victor, moving fast, not looking back as it races toward the top right of the page, keeping its eye on the prize.
If one measures them on a graph in years side by side, how fucked I think I am shaded black and how fucked I really am shaded grey, one will notice that how fucked I think I am grows at a much slower rate than how fucked I really am grows.
How fucked I really am seems to be dining on a first world diet, red meat every day with potatoes and a vegetable, maybe a glass of red wine to relax.
How fucked I think I am must be residing in a underdeveloped nation, impoverished and hungry, hands dirty and barefoot and featured in commercials asking for donations, feed how fucked I think I am for just pennies a day, please give now.
Case in point and cold hard truth.
That day sealed the deal for me,
that day on the side of that highway,
your voice hot in my ear, even from hundreds of miles away.
My knuckles white from holding the steering wheel tight,
not believing it was real, any of it.
I accept this fate,
that half hour stretch of time so small on this earth’s evolutionary scale that it can’t possibly exist.
Compare its half hour reign with the dinosaurs and their 165 million years, and you might laugh a little.
Case in point and cold hard truth,
this is how fucked I really am.
and
You
Almost half your life.
At the end of your life damn near most of your life.
Tied. Unalone. Hitched. Taken Claimed. Tagged, you’re it.
Me
Most of my life.
At the end of my life damn near all of my life.
Untied. Alone. Unhitched. Untaken. Unclaimed. Untagged, though I was it once.
I accept this fate ,
believe this is how it has to be,
If not has to, then just is,
how very Zen of me, how very enlightened.
Marriage kills and maims passion I say out loud to anyone who will listen,
but not with you I say under my breath and only to myself.
Case in point and cold hard truth,
this is how fucked I really am.
and
Your elbows,
not your eyes, not your nose, not your mouth,
your elbows.
I can love them for their roundness when your arms are straight
and for their pointiness when your arms are bent across your chest,
and I can hate them for the same reasons because I can’t touch them.
I accept this fate.
Still, they remind me of something primal,
perfect in their form, something familiar and comforting,
they are tangible, they are evidence of you.
Case in point and cold hard truth,
this is how fucked I really am.
and
Your hands,
their movements make me believe they’ve been reincarnated for my benefit,
something Michelangelo sculpted from the depths of his Renaissance brain,
shook his head and said I’ll keep this one private,
and I love them for this,
and hate them because the chances I’ll ever feel them on my ass
or my back are slim to none.
I accept this fate ,
but still someday I want to run into you when we are old so I can say
“you’re an old man and you still have the most beautiful hands”
Case in point and cold hard truth.
See, how fucked I really am
Burlesque Press 