POETRY
Being Scared
I had this thought, and they can be scary at times, but then I realized it wasn’t mine — whew!
I had this thought.
It came in as I was sleeping this morning.
Like a husband trying to sneak into
the marital bed, after a night out with
the boys.
It bumped and pushed. Acting all entitled.
Like I hadn’t seen anything like it before.
All glorious and majestic, shiny and
bright enough to light the way.
Thoughts are fucking like that. Holier
than thou. Full of themselves and I get
tired of having to step aside and let them in;
forget what I was thinking about, what
I considered important because it arrived
late, without warning, demanding top billing,
and a seat at the front of the class.
And what was it? What was so important, so
timely and incandescent that everything and
everyone needed to stop and pay attention,
like a whisper from God’s lips to our ears.
Selfish bastards.
