THE OLD NOTHINGNESS SOMETHING

Anxiously waiting
without a hint of patience
but rather refined resignation
for my hair to grow long over my face
and shield from the world
my congenital failure
to stand erect
to play well with others
to use the salad fork for salad

Every breath reminds me of a stuttering engine
set in motion, possibly hotwired,
from a place I will return to some day
where there are no engines
no moving parts
just a flash of insight maybe
and then the great darkness
or the equally great light
depending on whose blueprint of the afterlife
you subscribe to

I knew one of Jehovah’s Witnesses
who with an Oliver Hardy grin
spoke excitedly about everlasting paradise on Earth
when he would grow his mustache
into a Fu Manchu style
(so many Jehovah’s Witnesses have mustaches, have you ever noticed?)

I wanted to go 1974 Lou Reed crew cut blond
but my wife kiboshed that idea
still don’t fully understand why
I would have tried it, got it out of my system
and moved on

We all eventually have to move on