Poem: "FW: Self"

I dream of a life I finally got my shit together

well-tailored dark polo shirts

with the nice designs on the collar

and matching on the ends of the sleeves

some sunglasses whose lens

a searing hot red

brilliant yellow

and smooth cerulean

none of which I'll wear because

I already wear glasses

maybe even risk it all with lasik

and still dare to wear frames

(an accessory becomes identity)

old shirts whose sizes are far too large

yet still with me as remnants of lives past

who once weighed heavily

now taut, spry, and limber

my voice doesn't tremble on stage

nerves steeled against any quiver

he delivers with confidence, eloquence

resembling a humane tenacity

and gentle candor, yet

still a force to be reckoned with

hardly anything to ignore

and at home

(wherever that may be)

he is still faulty

with friends old and new

circles of many, yet few

and when not at work

what does he do?

simple

lives

breathes

and moves

with you

---

inspired by the April PAD (Poem-A-Day) No. 15, Prompt: "Dreams"

I was thinking again about what I would want my future to be like.

I had another poem similar to this in the past, called "Transient Hopes" and essentially thought about how my fashion sense would evolve from wearing big shirts and gym shorts (because my weight made me believe I couldn't wear anything nice) to colorful open flannels with matching bold-colored t-shirts underneath. These days, those are the clothes I wear now.

And from flannels, I've been thinking ahead to the next step and moments in my life. I am hoping and working towards reaching that next goal. Slam poetry, a refined personality, some really nice tailored polo shirts, and a successful laser eye surgery (and then still choosing to wear prescriptionless glasses).

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