Happy
Birthday to Me
I wonder…
Why do I do
what I do?
Instead of
watching TV?
Or playing
the lottery?
Or making
dulcimers
Or fiddling
with tools
I think:
Some things I
do,
I do with
mixed emotions
But most of
the time
What I do
Is bereft of
feeling
I know…
I am no
barracuda
In the food
chain
No William
James
In the
library
No Pilgrim
In Progress
No Buddha
Sitting still
I imagine…
If I had
money
I’d give it
away
Me talking
big
We’ll see on
that
I bet…
If I were
smart
Somebody
would
Know it by now
And have me
branded
With the mark
of the best
I feel…
Numb to the
touch
Alone in
crowds
Happy in
bursts
Up to my neck
I hope…
Oars are for
rowing
Sails for
blowing
Wind for
moving
Horizons for
seeking
I assume as
much
But…
I remember
Walt Whitman
The way he
asked us to
Now if only I
could
Tell him as
much
And if only I
could
Touch
tomorrow
The way I
feel
The wind and
sun
Touch me
In the end…
I have vital
signs
Enough to
make
A hospital
machine
Draw lines
and go beep
Happy Birthday To Me!!
