It seemed to him there was
someone in everyones life who is a referent moral authority*
who is utterly disregarded
what was beginning to trouble him
was that he was long-lived enough now to be that person
they came to him
it wouldnt occur to him to solicit
them
and when he was finally asked he deliberated
if he would heatedly
with himself
with himself
he conceded
and only as he was nearly finished
did he recognise he was blowing hot air up their ass
they must have liked how it felt
however
they were unlikely to heed a word
of it
not hearing it
not hearing it
despite it plucked from
the annals of a real existence
not some opaque supposition or reheated ideology
Just
the facts, ma’am(as inappropriately
attributed to Joe Friday)
hard boiled hard
tack hard luck
and yet there he was
frankly it was of no matter to him if his thoughts were received
poorly
because they were worthwhile
should he have brayed like an ass
chalked it up as a poor experience
upbraid the next person who might
asked him for his thoughts
who may very well be legit
who had he asked or would he ask for
advise
who had he ever asked for advise
he didnt
it wasnt because he knew it all
certainly terribly not
but rather because he took stock
in himself
he refused to be influenced by peers
or what was vogue
perhaps things may have been
better if he had
but he was comfortable not
knowing
this way he only had himself to blame
thus it minimised
he relished his obligation
precisely
there was something in him not
wanting to belong to any group that would have him among them
a Marxist quote
Groucho
that wasnt to say that he wished
he had no one to confide in or confess
but such were the failings of an
introvert -- failings
-- of course there were always
more than a pair a few or several
a cast bronze outside its mold is
refined filed and brushed and fussed
over and even as its crate is being
screwed shut for shipping there is a sigh imperfect
an admission Thatll have to do
Thatll have to do
his introverted failings were his
lack and earnest of wanting to make friends or
acquaintanceship outside himself
inside he vied with powerful
factions
each more desperate for his
time his intentions
he is hapless
he has no deities or devotions
he holds factions at bay holds them in his bony cavern packed in gray matter soft underfoot like moss
and because he has no devotions
or fealty the factions are shuffled agilely like a well-worked deck of cards
and played one-at-a-time as they are turned
he plays until he becomes
exhausted or bored then he shuffles them again and turns another
card to whet his dry impatience oil his
cogs and gears confirm their meshing spit polish and shine his machinery
he refuses to entertain spreads
as in tarot
there are no aspects to be
informed anticipated wanted
or hoped for
he is miserly
he likes the weather inside
it rarely drives him out
and not driven away he hasnt
developed confidantes priests or informants
nor has he any enemies to keep
closer
it seemed to him
he managed his inventory quite
well
as for being a referent moral authority
Awwhaddahell
Why not
afternoon, Sunday,
3 10. 15
1035, Monday,
5 10. 15
* “Grandmamma had been the last
connection to our past. I had understood her as some referent moral authority
to whom we paid no heed, but by whose judgments we measured our
waywardness. Homer & Langley E. L. Doctorow”
