this confessional shit
after twenty years silence
and chasing the god awful dollar.
running like a monkey on a string
sure beat poverty and homelessness.
now I write letters and words
coagulating into sentences,
a retelling of the world the way I see it,
albeit shaded a jaundiced yellow.
nothing to report today except
last week I almost kissed the neighbor lady.
she came to the door
to ask my wife a question.
during one of my semi-
lucid somewhat drunk moments
and I suddenly mistook her for somebody else
and lurched forward to plant a kiss.
she jumped back a foot or two
and gave me this look.
she thought I was off my rocker.
now she walks
on the other side of the street
and pretends I am invisible.
this is normal.
I have been invisible most of my life.
they say visibility returns
when you get old and women and small animals
no longer consider your a threat.
if this is true
I will have to do something