Being.

I am iron.
I am iron but I don’ t want to become steel.
I just want to be iron
– no hot air for me, please –
the way kids don’ t want to grow up,
the way the Lost Boys want to stay lost.
I envy you
because you’ re a plant
and you can eat the sun.
Okay, I’ m not iron.
I’ m a man in an iron suit.
I even conquered the world once,
but it was only a board game,
the mighty Ukraine the last to fall,
reminding me of my Russian Dwarf hamster, Sven,
and his hardened determination to spin that wheel longer than he should have,
and not so much of his sister, Anastasia,
who ate all of her babies,
thirteen mini hamster heads found after breakfast.
And that’ s how you feel in front of the classroom
because you’ re not actually a plant,
you’ re just frozen almost still
during your presentation,
hands shaking, voice trembling, a thundercloud forming around your brain,
wishing you could be a plant and eat the sun alone somewhere
as you try desperately to make the Liberty Bell
interesting for almost fifteen minutes,
very aware that you might vomit
at any second.

Years later
there’s a skyscraper with over 3,000 windows.
Only one light is on in the whole place
and there you are,
a CEO surrounded by reinforced steel,
sitting on your desk and sharing a joint with the night shift janitor.

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3 Comments

  1. lifestyleideas

     /  April 9, 2011

    Excellent poem thanks for sharing. I really enjoy reading your blog very much.

    A Great Day for Spring – Haiku Poem

    Reply
  2. sandy

     /  April 9, 2011

    Jeez, you capture so much in this. Great poem, Mike!

    Reply
  3. Thanks, both of you. I didn’t realize you commented on here until now. Thanks a bunch, though!

    Reply

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