The Inimitable Self
Moment by moment
day by day.
I make a case for my own importance.
Even at my most generous,
I take pride that it begins with me.
If there's such a thing as selflessness
then surely it's the pebble I just kicked
along the sidewalk.
I can't cotton to the idea
that I'm not original and irreplaceable.
I watch ESPN classic
and Willie Mays for the millionth time
reaches out with gloved hand
and makes that miracle catch.
Nobody else does.
I've just done reading Fitzgerald.
Without doubt, that prose
was absolutely his.
And Beethoven's fifth symphony.
God's music, except Beethoven composed it.
Okay so giants are giants.
No one's doubting Cervantes or Da Vinci.
But what of the pug's sad flat face.
Or the bearberry's pink embrace of morning.
Or the old man seeking shelter from the rain.
Or the young woman
staring out a bus window.
And how about the fact that I shaved this morning
and I combed my hair.
Whatever I do,
I take a stand for myself.
And I do it in the company
of everything else that's taking a stand.
Someone says, "I'll meet you hallway."
But we all know there's no such place.