(Originally published May 1, 2015 – Owen)

I lose my temper easily
In traffic and in lines;
If thoughts were misdemeanours
I would owe a lot in fines

I like to be alone, but then
At times I’m too verbose:
When guessing people’s thoughts, I
Frequently am not too close

I’m not that much to look at,
I’m sporadically depressed:
And some attempts at levity
Fall very flat, at best

I am an epileptic, and
A husband and a father;
I am an actuary and
A poet and a bother

I write quite quickly, when I
Have a little time to spare:
And I imbibe caffeine so much
That people stop and stare

I will be fifty-three years old
In four weeks to the day:
And after all this time, no doubt
I’m stuck
Being
This way