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I am a singular event
Occupying a particular span of time.
I am a concrete mystic
And an incurable skeptic
Seeking an approximation
Of peace and domestic tranquility.
I am a Slavic soul brother
Living the American dream.
I am a low rent raconteur who exhibits
Full frontal irony.
I know the moral of the story.
I have committed several acts of conscience.
I am not above suspicion.
I am often in league with the resistance.
I am a symbol of defiance.
I am a rebel without applause.
I am a working socialist.
I am a solitary voice,
But I can hear the drone of the collective
And I always keep a lock on the cellar door.
I am a theoretical technician
And a student of scripture.
I am a practicing agnostic.
I have traced the golden thread
To its unraveled conclusion.
I am not a slave to fashion.
I have walked on the wild side.
I have spent many nights in transit.
I am a collector of thimbles full of tears.
I keep most of my scar tissue
Tastefully under wrap.
I have dreams of many colors.
I can hear music, sweet, sweet music.
I dance to the beat of a gypsy drummer.
I have had several grooving violations.
I have been well deep underground.
I am a man of letters specializing in silent vowels.
I can maintain a stressed inflection
For extended periods of time.
I have endured odious rites of passage
And often embrace a sad refrain.
I am routinely calibrated
To a fine degree of tolerance.
I have earned the nth degree;
My master’s thesis was a pork barrel project.
I know the lay of the land.
I can put a thing in its place
And then skillfully rearrange the closet.
I am an irregular fixture in certain small venues
Where I cultivate awkward moments of silence
With the local inhabitants.
I am a stranger’s face in a family portrait;
An unrecognized shadow
Darkening a somber state of affairs.
I have witnessed the changing of the light bulb
At the tomb of the unknown critic.
I have heard the sound
Of one hand clapping
A tree falling in the forest
With the other shoe.
I am a phantom of the theater.
I am waiting in the wings.
I know who’s on first.
I have learned to play ball.
I am a reformed safe cracker and base stealer.
I am not good at keeping score.
I never trust bad reviews.
I once left town in a hurry
And though I took a fork in the road,
I let the dish run away with the spoon.
I have spied the moon over the bayou
With the levee yet unforsaken;
It moved me to a consequence.
I have volunteered.
I have the hands of a skilled black market surgeon
Practicing in a dirty third world clinic.
I have the patience of a famine.
I am not what you’d expect.
I am a fisherman’s friend.
I use the carrot as a stick.
I have made many first attempts
At second chances.
I have ten saving graces
And a glory halleluiah,
With a statistical margin of error.
I am an expert novice who knows from experience.
I prefer being the off-center of attention.
I have taken sweet, side-long glances
At objects of my desire.
Though I am known for being anonymous,
I would reveal my name for a price.
I am the hardest worker in the shop.
I am some kind of wonderful,
Looking for long term romantic bliss.
I am not easily impressed,
But can be pleasantly surprised.
Let me know if you’re interested.
Copyright © Michael Kalavik | Year Posted 2021
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