It doesn’t matter how you arrived here
The journey was never as important as the designation

You can say that you were born into it
Blame it on genes
You can say that it was an accident
That before you knew how deep you were in, it was too late

The truth is that it was a choice
Like any other

You chose to stay on the right side of two yellow lines
Your fat tongue still in your mouth
Remembering flavors of a meal long ago
With sublime regret

You chose to blow north
You didn’t walk on the water
But instead you laid down on it, floating
With your naked body kissing the sky

You chose to desert your dessert in the desert
It was dry and left you with half a mind
The other half was left searching for a camel
In a humpless dump

You chose a little more light for each morning
To savor in the darkness
And to leave behind you
When you were gone


Andrew Borne is 2 Cups Poet 1 teaspoon Musician 1/4 teaspoon Salt 1/2 cup Absurdity 3/4 cup Chef 1 egg, beaten 2 1/3 cups Family Man. Mixed together and served raw. His column 7x appears weekly in Oddball Magazine.