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Self-Portrait
The night was
So engrossed in himself
That I had
To ask, "What
Makes a person?
"What
Makes (me)
a person?"
And the bar-lights
told me one thing;
the concrete disagreed.
The eraser
said "Shut up and
Forget," but my shoes
knew I couldn't.
The wishing well
Wanted me to believe
In dropping quarters,
"But,"
The bobcat warned,
She just wants
Your dropping quarters.
The night was
So engrossed in himself
That I had
To answer
My
Self.
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