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.
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