Birth of a Singer
A boy once went in search of himself,
digging through crevices of mice-infested apartments
where he conjured paranoid success fantasies
to make himself feel worthy.
But mostly, of course, he searched in others’ eyes,
wishing secret violence against loved one’s psyches,
aching to induce a nod or grin, grimace or kiss
so that they might do his existential work.
But do not regret that misguided treasure hunt!
For as his lazy, hungry, empty self came into focus,
the boy saw that he was not special the way he thought,
but altogether things are stranger than thought can think.
He thought he had to fight for the stage,
asserting: “It is up to me
to sing the world’s best melody!”
But in the shock of love, loss, and age,
he sings: “I find again that I’m the song,
as my notes cohere, both right and wrong.”