I've rehearsed all my life
for this one woman show
I try to stand tall
Try to walk in deeper growth
Try not to say "I" all the damned time
I keep trying to tell you
it's not hunger, but starvation
You say, "you're only in your first draft"
"You must perfect your pain"
I think you are cruel
You say, "you are not thinking!"
I can't stand the consternation
I'm sick to death of these sea legs
Of memories recreating themselves
In their deafmute alienation chambers
I collapse into dead pan
In the cynical, skeptical, spoiled rotten
unconsciousness of first world oblivion
The unmitigated gall--the dumb luck
To ponder "I"
Thank God, Thank God, Thank God