Thursday, April 16, 2015

51: GROWTH EDGE

I send out tentative shoots
that are doomed to fail
like the cherry tree we planted last spring
mowed down by fall

I say it wrong
wear it crooked
glasses askew
old and farty

at least a decade behind every trend
I embarrass myself
before youngsters half my age

I don’t tweet
or snapchat
or whatever the fuck is the latest app

I am more than halfway
through this fragile burst of a life
not even middle aged
but hurtling headlong to elderhood

at an age when I should be securing my nest egg
tenured and well-insured
at the top of my game

I rub it all out and start from scratch
I save nothing and press restart
I slash and burn
and cut down the safety net
spiral closer to the sun
to get burned each time

the moment of mastery
is the call to deconstruct
comfort is the signal
to stretch for the growth edge

I fly to the other side of the world
to sleep on the floor
in another language
I find ever new ways
to mortify myself

I move myself to detroit
to breathe incinerated air
and wake to watchdogs barking on cold nights

I move my ass every 6 months or so
each time shedding another layer of accumulation
who knew it would all be so useless?
all that learning?
all those books?

what are you trying to prove?
says my incredulous ex
what drives you
toward extreme vulnerability?
ask same-age friends
from the safety of their long-time homes

so many incarnations in this single lifetime
I quake and glow in the glory of my foolishness