DAY 22, POEM 22: YOU'VE GOT ALL THAT'S COMING TO YOU

Now then.

You love literature. You love film. You love music.
You have your favorites and you stick with those.

You read the same four or five books over and over.
You prefer French writers. And German ones. Camus, Böll.

You have about ten favorite films and you watch those repeatedly.
Again, the French.
But also acknowledged crap, like Cabin Boy and Pootie Tang.
Goldfinger.
You can't watch Woody Allen movies without thinking about him giving it to Soon Yi.

Your music, Jesus. The same Lou Reed bootleg from 1978.
You prefer Mick Taylor-era Rolling Stones, but you really always listen to Charlie Watts.
Hard bop that sounds like the instruments were made from rusted car mufflers.

What of everything else?
Closed-off attitudes cause pain and suffering.
And you are insecure about your taste.
But you know what you like. And you have your reasons.

It's just that no one cares to hear them.