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I received this poem from Joseph (@JosephEParker) this morning. In it, he looks back on his personality in 2011. Knocked me out of writing for the post today. Nuff said. Don’t forget to subscribe. πŸ™‚
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When people say they miss me,
I think how much I miss me too,
Me, the old me, the great me,
Lover of three women in one day,
Modest me, the best me,
Friend to waiters and bartenders,
Hearty laugher and name rememberer,
Proud me, handsome and hirsute
In football shoes and shorts
Strong me in a weightbelt at the gym,
Mutual sweat dripper in and out
Of the sauna, furtive observer
Of the coeducated and scantily clad,
Speedy me, cyclist of rivers,
Goose and peregrine falcon
Counter, all season venturer,
Chatter-up of corner cops,
Groundskeepers, mothers with strollers,
Outwitter of panhandlers and bill collectors,
Avoider of levies, excises,
Me in a taxi in the rain,
Pressing my luck all the way home.

That’s me at the dice table, baby,
Betting come, little Joe, and yo,
Blowing the coals, laying thunder,
My foot on top a pricey chip
Some drink spilled on the floor,
Dishonest me, evener of scores,
Eager accepter of the extra change,
Hotel towel pilferer, coffee spoon lifter,
Fervent retailer of others’ humour,
Blackhearted gossiper,
Poisoner at the well, dweller
In unsavoury detail, delighted sayer
Of the vulgar, off course belier
Of the true me, empiric builder
Newly haircutted, sticker-up
For pals, jam unpriser, medic
To the self-inflicted, attorney
To the self-indicted, petty accountant
And keeper of the double books,
Great divider of the universe
And all its forms of existence
Into its relationship to me,
Fellow trembler to the future,
Thin air gawker, apprehender
Of the frameless door.

Tomorrow we welcome Bule to the 30 Day Parade. See you πŸ™‚

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