A Boy And His Bullet

I try but I can’t forget
the way I have been for so long
(how we are becomes who we are)
maybe I learned early to never expect
things to go well that I would have to think
my way in and out of everything
(I don’t know why people call me a perfectionist
when some days it’s all I can do to tie my shoes)
maybe I learned that it is important
to not be sensitive
to not show
what men call weakness
learned to manage what you think of me
learned that I am different that I do not belong
that I am all there is
I followed a notice on a bulletin board at the laundromat to a
group of saviors in a circle on the ground beneath a shade tree
behind the bus station
(I always thought that a light would come shining
once I had gone as far as I could)
I approached the circle and the pretty one said to me
you are not all there is
until you have become all that you are
she raised an earthen bowl to me and said,
carrot stick?
I should not accept your kindness, I said
I should seek pain at least double to the pain I have caused
and burn away the memory of how I have been
the old one raised his hand and motioned for me to sit with them
if you are your memories then at the moment of death
the dream will end and it will be as if
nothing ever happened, he said
until then you will never cease being how you have been
(I wanted who I am to become how I am)
the pretty one caught my eye and gave me a beautiful smile
as again she raised the earthen bowl to me