the one in the shadows shadows shadows
behind the camera, behind the soundboard
behind the keyboard (not the musical kind)
not behind blue eyes though
more like behind the 8 ball
“pay no attention to that man behind the curtain”
and no one does
some of us claim we don’t want the attention
better to stay holed-up in some crappy place
too hot in the summer
too cold in the winter
groaning pipes and creaky floors
feels like a fifth floor walk up with only four floors
very few people understand a writer
I once had a girlfriend who I thought understood me
we were soul mates or some such thing we said
I guess she thought she was better off dead
one day she just threw herself in front of a train
in an early morning august rain
I didn’t feel anything really///
just numb
I stayed in my room and wrote as if nothing had happened
what more could be done
/////
but it’s better than digging ditches I guess
although that’s work where you don’t hafta think
don’t make no difference to the bottle what you are
no true poet dies of nothing else than
some kind of suicide
drinking themselves to death for instance
you just get tired of it all after a while
