(no subject)
I am so tired of changing faces
and sometimes I get caught
in the living room
on the phone
with an old friend
far away,
and my other voice comes out
and it sounds like rap in a catholic church.
or hymns in a downtown club at 2 AM
and I freeze for a moment
caught malleably
between the church and the club
and the respiration in the phone
sounds confused and suspenseful
while the bodies in the living room
twist awkwardly pretending
not to hear-
I do my best
to melange the two personas
and stand tall without giving
or receiving too much delusion,
though sometimes I wish
I were a little less
of a chameleon and more
a shiny John Hancock building
smack in the middle of the colonial churches
and castles of Copley Square
but I wonder if I rotate skins
for the sake of survival
in fluctuating environments
whose fangs i'd be
the fresh carcass of
were I not to eagerly blend
or if perhaps that is the problem,
changing environments or
all the envisioning of people and places
as starved prowling predators,
and at this point,
I could have a name
for every place i'd been
and lived, which is only three,
but no one can really juggle
three balls from more than a half minute,
and if friends from the last place
came looking for me in the new,
they'd be getting dizzy
walking in circles trying to find her.
and sometimes I get caught
in the living room
on the phone
with an old friend
far away,
and my other voice comes out
and it sounds like rap in a catholic church.
or hymns in a downtown club at 2 AM
and I freeze for a moment
caught malleably
between the church and the club
and the respiration in the phone
sounds confused and suspenseful
while the bodies in the living room
twist awkwardly pretending
not to hear-
I do my best
to melange the two personas
and stand tall without giving
or receiving too much delusion,
though sometimes I wish
I were a little less
of a chameleon and more
a shiny John Hancock building
smack in the middle of the colonial churches
and castles of Copley Square
but I wonder if I rotate skins
for the sake of survival
in fluctuating environments
whose fangs i'd be
the fresh carcass of
were I not to eagerly blend
or if perhaps that is the problem,
changing environments or
all the envisioning of people and places
as starved prowling predators,
and at this point,
I could have a name
for every place i'd been
and lived, which is only three,
but no one can really juggle
three balls from more than a half minute,
and if friends from the last place
came looking for me in the new,
they'd be getting dizzy
walking in circles trying to find her.