I’ve been a tower
of fools, a fury of fleas,
and on reflection it seems as if
the estuary of my experience
has been much wider than deep
and too often lingered at low tide.
I suspect that I’ve been a richness
of embarrassments, an alchemist
of resentments, a demitasse
of a demigod. More a child
than a father at crucial times.
Sorry honey it was the best
that I could do.
Published in Bop Dead City