Back to My Life Already in Progress
I.
If I am lucky, I will be at your funeral.
Or maybe we’ll be tasting the pâté
at someone else’s wake.
Sometimes I’m incapable of saying the right thing,
sometimes I forget to smile for the camera
and I’m remembered as cranky.
Or maybe I’m at the Self-Improvement Booth
saying,
I feel anxious when others try to control my time.
I love cappuccino more than chapels.
Sometimes the truth spoken on a saltine
is better than a lie force-fed.
Like that time I wandered into the church
only because I needed a clean bathroom.
And the priest said I was forgiven,
but I wasn't asking and I left gripping my rosary
with my teeth
wondering if I’d be forgiven.
II.
If I’m lucky, all the pills I’ve swallowed
over my lifetime will bloom into shield
against the disease around me
or maybe I will become a 5’7” pill
in sensible shoes and trendy haircut.
I’m here to tell you MRIs are not that bad,
a sort of spa day in a rock tumbler,
a hour long practice of savasana in a coffin.
And when they saw inside me,
I wondered how well I was made.
I’ll swear I was assembled by monkeys.
I’ll swear the God who carried me smoked cigarettes.
And she did.
When the world stops, I’ll be the first
to complain about motion sickness.
When the world stops, I’ll be the first
who asks to get off.
When the world stops, I’ll be the first
to run through the alleys
and try to make it spin.
But they said it didn’t. Stop. End.
They said, Read deeper into the story,
don’t just scan the beginning.
They said, Try not to be afraid
of loud noises.
They said, You were perfect.
Now go enjoy your day.
