I’d like to leave a legacy
That speaks to what’s inside of me;
The man I truly am, deep down:
The verb somewhere behind the noun
But it would seem, I must confess,
That I’m a bit of country mess;
Defined at last by what I lack:
A trailer, backed up to a shack
With windows that just might suggest
That I had entertained a guest;
Or maybe not. It’s hard to tell.
But that’s my legacy, as well
Last night, I had a vivid dream.
I was a place I’ve never been.
But honor lived there yet, intact,
And still within the reach of men,
And women, too, who were alike,
Though diff’rent looking; young and old,
In seeking truth and fairness, through
The stabbing pain of constant cold.
A place of right for those who had been wronged:
A me, not really sure that I
I tried to write what you had worn,
But then I had to strike it;
For fashion I don’t really get,
Except, I know I like it.
I’m kind of dumb that way, I think.
My eye just misses detail —
There’s, like, some jewelry and some hair,
And then my verbal (epic) fail.
I have a photograph right here.
And though I stare, and dawdle,
I just do not have fashion sense,
And I married a model —
So you have sense for both of us.
I love it, I imbibe it —
But I can’t really write it down,
For I cannot
I kept aside
I hid my shame
The whole world (but not me)
I sang my songs
And spent days (but not nights)
I turned around
And, seeing me
I knew then (sort of knew)
In molten life
I was but dross
And would be (patently)
There are many disasters
That can us each befall :
To know what people think of you
Is probably worst of all