Solipsist

 

        2036588ab4f1897cbac9cdc549317c11--unique-coffee-mugs-i-love-coffee

 

He was a remover of labels,

an un-joiner. It started early,

weeding out Lutheran, quitting Scouts,

giving up on Letter Sports,

no Chess Club.

 

Had been quick-sketched

as Joe College, Beat then Hippie,

dropped out of the Counter Culture

after Altamont. Avoided PTA

Greenleaf and Lunchliners,

answered the door naked for Jehova’s Witness.

 

Despised the polarity of self-righteous Right

and cynical Left, even worse was Center.

Abhorred PhD, NRA, Urbanite, and middle-aged,

believed Polo Ponies revealed

a lack of self esteem and kept an eye,

but from afar, on AA, AAA and AARP.

 

His recent Ex in designer jeans

contemplating 33 years

of existential sophistry,

scooped the Maxwell House

high test in the BUNN coffee maker,

thinking she’d need a roadie to keep her awake.

 

Took two Excedrin and a valium

pulled the BMW onto I-95,

 popped in an Elton CD,

it was exactly an hour’s drive

to the monthly rendezvous.

 

They would watch

the Yankee/Red Sox game,

it was most certainly post season

and have sex as usual

at his place.

 

He was preparing generic snacks,

sipping on homemade wine –

stopped quickly in front of the

dining room mirror

hoping for a little definition –

 

amusing himself with the myth

that no reflection was a sign of the undead –

went back to the kitchen

feeling properly primped,

spontaneous and in the third person.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

4 comments

  1. Craig. I was absorbed from first line to last. Nowt else to say really, save that your poetry is unique and utterly fascinating.

    Oh, and I thought ‘Red Light’, was quite incredible.

    Douglas.

    Like

  2. Craig, this poem reads like a pitch for a really good movie.Your play with unlabel labels tells a lot about the story. I felt a little sad at the last phrase, “in the third person.”
    ptc

    Like

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